Her reluctance was plain in her voice. "If that's the way it has to be."

"Don't mess with me on this, girl." His voice was hard. "I hold the cards here. I can have word sent to Potanin that it's all off, even order him to dispose of Barry and Flynn."

She was obviously shaken. "No, don't do that."

"I'll call round tonight after your six o'clock meeting and confirm this with you face-to-face. I'll be waiting in the back pew."

"All right. I understand."

He switched off his Codex and turned to Selim, who was looking grave. "Not good, I fear, whatever it is. Who is this woman, have I met her?"

"No, and you wouldn't want to. A deeply disturbed individual, but aren't we all? Now, how about some lunch? After all my exertions, I'm absolutely starving."

After lunch, Selim disappeared to indulge in a final ma.s.sage of some description and an appointment in the hairdressing salon. Holley felt that enough was enough, although there was no doubt that he felt a lot better than when he'd arrived. He was sitting in the lounge bar, thinking about what had happened with Caitlin Daly, when Martha appeared to inform him that the clothes he'd been wearing when he'd arrived had all been valeted and were waiting for him in the allotted cubicle. Selim disappeared to indulge in a final ma.s.sage of some description and an appointment in the hairdressing salon. Holley felt that enough was enough, although there was no doubt that he felt a lot better than when he'd arrived. He was sitting in the lounge bar, thinking about what had happened with Caitlin Daly, when Martha appeared to inform him that the clothes he'd been wearing when he'd arrived had all been valeted and were waiting for him in the allotted cubicle.

He found perfection. Even his tie had been pressed, the shoes shined. He returned to the bar lounge to find Selim still in a robe but with his hair trimmed and looking suspiciously black.

"You've had a dye job," Holley said.

"And you, my friend, look like a whiskey advert. For a man of forty-nine, you look remarkably fit, Daniel. It's not fair."

"Not much in life is," Holley told him. "Let's have a coffee, then you go and change, and I suggest we make tracks."

Selim waved to the barman as Holley's Codex sounded. Lermov said, "There you are, Daniel. Time we talked, I think."

"Where are you?"

"Moscow, but soon to leave for the Prime Minister's plane."

"Well, that's nice for you, so close to the seat of power. But remember Icarus. His wings melted and fell off when he flew too close to the sun."

"Ah, you obviously enjoyed the benefits of a cla.s.sical education."

"Of a grammar school education, Josef, in my case the Leeds variety. What do you want?"

"Daniel, you mustn't go round shooting people, it won't do."

"So you heard about that? From your pet poodle Chekhov, I suppose!"

"Yes, and I know about the incident when Ivanov turned up at the church and tried to force you into the car. He was wrong."

"Glad you agree. But about yesterday's incident, I would point out he shot me first. I'm only speaking to you now thanks to the genius of the Wilkinson Sword Company, which made my bulletproof vest."

"I accept all that, but you've certainly had your revenge. Half an ear gone."

"Well, let's say he's made his mark in the world. I should imagine he'll look satisfactorily grotesque."

"You're a hard man, Daniel, even harder than I'd imagined."

"What you see is not not what you get with me, Josef. You should have realized that just as you should have realized what Peter Ivanov is really like under that pretty uniform. He's broken your specific orders in this matter. We were to be voices on the Codex, that's all. He violated that by showing up at the church and yet again by making Chekhov take him to Bolt Hole. What was that all about?" what you get with me, Josef. You should have realized that just as you should have realized what Peter Ivanov is really like under that pretty uniform. He's broken your specific orders in this matter. We were to be voices on the Codex, that's all. He violated that by showing up at the church and yet again by making Chekhov take him to Bolt Hole. What was that all about?"

"I could ask the same of you. Who was your mysterious companion, of the Arabic persuasion?"

"You knew I'd need the services of a banker and weapons supplier, and that was he. I was interested after my discussions with Chekhov about Bolt Hole. It occurred to me that it might offer some sort of temporary sanctuary. He keeps a substantial motor yacht there. In such a vessel, France would be only a short run across the English Channel in time of need, if you follow me. After all, who knows how this thing will end?"

"I see your point. So you and your friend were simply a.s.sessing the situation?"

"And completely astonished when Chekhov and Ivanov appeared. The rest, as they say in a mystery novel, you know."

"So to come to what's important, everything is set for tomorrow?"

"Absolutely. You can tell the Prime Minister, if you like."

"I don't think so. I'm a cautious man. I like to be sure. I'd rather wait until it's actually happened and then surprise him."

"Of course, Josef, but do tell Ivanov to do as he's told."

"I already have. I don't suppose there's anything else you need?"

"Not that I can think of. Safe flight, enjoy New York. I trust it will be a memorable visit for you."

"In more ways than one," Lermov told him.

Selim had waved the waiter away and sat there throughout the entire conversation. Now he beckoned the barman back and repeated the order. the waiter away and sat there throughout the entire conversation. Now he beckoned the barman back and repeated the order.

"Did you get all that?" Holley asked.

"A trifle one-sided, but what you were saying was interesting. I presume that the person you were talking to is Ivanov's superior?"

"Very much, and just appointed Head of Station for the GRU in London, Colonel Josef Lermov, to be precise. They lost his predecessor in the Thames. Lermov pulled me out of the Lubyanka to try and find a solution to the problem Putin had dropped into his lap. You'll be thrilled to know he's about to leave Moscow as part of Putin's entourage, flying with the great man to New York where he will speak at the United Nations tomorrow night."

"Daniel, I have got beyond being astounded at anything in this business." Selim waved the barman away after he placed the tray on the table. "I suggest we have our coffee and then go back to London, where I presume the final episode will take place. Not long now, I suppose, that's one good thing. The suspense is killing me. What next?"

"I'm expected in Kilburn at round seven o'clock by the lady I was talking to before."

"This is important?"

"Very much so, and also unpleasant, but it has to be done."

"You know, the time I have spent with you has been like a movie," Selim said. "Your story, all the things happening to you, I see only through your eyes and what you choose to tell me, but it's always only part of the story. I don't see what the others in your life do, except in that singular episode involving Chekhov and Ivanov. It's as if you were living life in a film noir seen only from your point of view, inhabited by cinema ghosts, and you are one of them."

"The entire story told in one hour and forty minutes," Holley said. "Just like Bob le flambeur. Bob le flambeur."

"And look what happened to him," Selim replied, and he got up and went off to get dressed.

Selim dropped Holley off at the hotel. "You're sure you don't want to borrow the car?" at the hotel. "You're sure you don't want to borrow the car?"

"No, I'll be fine with a cab."

"As usual, I don't know what it is you have to do, but I trust it will go well. If you're free later, come and see me. The big day tomorrow may make you restless tonight."

"I know." Holley grinned. "The suspense is killing me now." Selim drove away, and Holley, discovering it was only four-thirty, borrowed an umbrella from the doorman and went around Mayfair for forty minutes, rain-walking in a private and enclosed world under the umbrella, but all he was doing was putting off the bad moment, he knew that, and he returned to the hotel and went up to his suite.

He half undressed, taking off his shirt so that he could put on his bulletproof vest again. He strapped on the ankle holster, decided against the Walther PPK for now but slipped the flick-knife into his left trouser pocket. So he was prepared, for it had to be done, though he was not looking forward to it.

He told the cabdriver to drop him at Kilburn High Road and walked through to the park, pa.s.sing Hope of Mary Hospice and Refuge at half past six. He stood there, umbrella raised against the interminable rain, then walked back to the church through the darkness, left his umbrella in a corner of the porch, and went in. to drop him at Kilburn High Road and walked through to the park, pa.s.sing Hope of Mary Hospice and Refuge at half past six. He stood there, umbrella raised against the interminable rain, then walked back to the church through the darkness, left his umbrella in a corner of the porch, and went in.

He stood in the gloom, at first by the door where religious pamphlets of one kind or another were displayed. There was a selection of prayer cards of various kinds, all at a price to help church funding, and there it was, that special "we who are ourselves alone" card. He helped himself, meticulously dropping a couple of pound coins into the box provided. He went and sat on the end of the rear pew and waited.

It was very quiet, the church smell, the guttering candles, but there was no one by the confessional boxes, and the lights had been turned off, probably to save on the electricity bill. There was a gloomy, medieval atmosphere about the place that some might have found menacing, and, in the darkness, things creaked.

A door banged from the direction of the sacristy, and she appeared by the altar and walked towards him, an old khaki trench coat over her shoulders. Her steps echoed hollowly.

He stood to greet her. "So there you are, Caitlin. You've done what I asked?"

She stared at him, proud and bitter. "If it's what you want, then let it be so. I'll not pretend to like it. That she shot dead one of our own while working with Ferguson is a known fact, and I think it's illogical to treat her differently because she's a woman."

"It's what I need, Caitlin, it's as simple as that. So you give me your word that Murray has your orders to abort?"

She crossed herself. "I swear it on my soul, and I'll swear it on anything else you wish-the Bible, if you like."

"I'll be content if you swear it on your own symbol of the prayer most precious in your life above all things." He held up the card. "Swear it on this."

"I swear before G.o.d and with all my heart that I have spoken to Patrick Murray in front of his comrades, who can confirm that his mission concerning Monica Starling is aborted."

She held out the card to him, and he said, "No, I'd prefer you to keep it."

"Then if you don't mind, I'll take my leave of you," Caitlin Daly said. "A great day tomorrow, G.o.d willing. Will we see you in the evening?"

"I think not," Holley said. "I'll leave it to you and the cell. Sat.u.r.day will be the day to see what's been achieved."

As he turned to go, she caught his arm. "You still don't truly believe in all this, do you?"

His laugh was harsh and genuine. "A bit late in the day to ask me that sort of question. I stopped believing in myself years ago. Once you've made a discovery like that, it's difficult to believe in anything else, but it's your day if it's anybody's. I'll leave it to you and contact you on Sat.u.r.day morning."

He went out, and she said to herself, "I thought so." There was a slight creak as one of the doors opened in a confessional box, and a man came forward holding a pistol in his right hand. "You heard all that, Patrick?"

"I could have shot him easy."

"Don't be stupid. What would we have done with the body? It would have ruined everything."

"So what happens now? Does what you told me in front of the others still hold?"

"Of course not. Go back to the original instructions and kill the b.i.t.c.h. Now, go on, get out, and keep this to yourself."

He withdrew, the door banged, and it was so quiet, only the Virgin Mary floating in a sea of candlelight, watching her. She looked down at the prayer card. She tore it into little pieces, her face quite calm, then walked back to the sacristy.

Although not of the faith himself, Daniel Holley had seen enough of how important Roman Catholicism was to Irish women to believe that the oath she had given him, sworn on the Virgin herself, would be binding. The memory of his years with his beloved mother was enough to convince him. In the cab during the return journey, he felt considerable relief. He called ahead and told Selim he was on his way. A certain burden had been lifted, and it showed when he got to the shop and rang for entrance. Daniel Holley had seen enough of how important Roman Catholicism was to Irish women to believe that the oath she had given him, sworn on the Virgin herself, would be binding. The memory of his years with his beloved mother was enough to convince him. In the cab during the return journey, he felt considerable relief. He called ahead and told Selim he was on his way. A certain burden had been lifted, and it showed when he got to the shop and rang for entrance.

Selim bustled out wearing his black duster coat. "I could tell by your voice that you are a different man. Am I correct?"

"Yes, I have to admit I'm much relieved."

"Excellent. Five minutes to go for the eight o'clock show at the Curzon. They're showing Alain Delon and Belmondo in Borsalino. Borsalino."

"Gangsters again?" Holley said.

"Of course, and why not? Hurry, my boy. We'll just make it."

The film was as stunning as it had been the first time Holley had seen it, decades ago. Later at Al Bustan, they discussed it. "More than any other filmmakers, the French have portrayed the romance of the gangster, have been able to make him a genuine antihero, and there is a certain n.o.bility to such characters," Selim said. as it had been the first time Holley had seen it, decades ago. Later at Al Bustan, they discussed it. "More than any other filmmakers, the French have portrayed the romance of the gangster, have been able to make him a genuine antihero, and there is a certain n.o.bility to such characters," Selim said.

Holley shook his head, "You've been reading too many film magazines, Selim. The one thing that all such films have in common is the ending. Your antihero, usually on his back in some street, a gun in his hand, in the act of dying if not already dead. Where's the n.o.bility in that?"

"But this is not always so, Daniel. You, my boy, are still here despite all the odds, the samurai for real."

"But consider the price, Selim. Has it been worth it? I think not." He got up and reached for his coat. "I'll see you in the morning."

He went out into the narrow street, turning up his collar against the rain, lighter now but still there. He felt a strange content, probably because of the way the problem with Caitlin Daly had resolved itself, and was reasonably satisfied with the way things were going. He a.s.sumed that Harry Miller had already departed for New York. What he didn't know was that the Gulfstream carried an additional pa.s.senger, one Sean Dillon, who had persuaded Ferguson at the last minute that he should go.

For the moment, all Holley wanted was sleep, for tomorrow would be one of the most important days in his life, and, arriving back at the hotel, he went straight up to his room and turned in.

He had the dream again, if anything more intense than ever, Rosaleen with him an even shorter time, leaving him quite quickly, a.s.suring him that she would return but never doing so. There was the same sense of panic as he ran through those narrow streets and towering buildings in the black-and-white world. This time, it wasn't just the feeling of loss where she was concerned, it was experiencing the sensation that he was the only person in that dark world, and for the first time he struggled and came awake. if anything more intense than ever, Rosaleen with him an even shorter time, leaving him quite quickly, a.s.suring him that she would return but never doing so. There was the same sense of panic as he ran through those narrow streets and towering buildings in the black-and-white world. This time, it wasn't just the feeling of loss where she was concerned, it was experiencing the sensation that he was the only person in that dark world, and for the first time he struggled and came awake.

He lay there, staring at the ceiling, aware that he was totally alone and always would be, that was his eternal truth and something he'd better face, so he got up, showered and shaved, put on his ankle holster, just in case, and went across to Shepherd's Market.