"And Caitlin Daly?"

"Her death means it makes it very easy to treat the whole affair as if it never happened. Blake Johnson, of course, had a bullet in him, but he's on the mend."

"And Josef Lermov?"

"Perhaps it's his turn to do a stint with the GRU at Station Gorky, like Greta. The only certain thing is that Mister Big at the Kremlin is going to feel very let down," Holley said.

"Especially at the continuing lack of information regarding Kurbsky. I would also point out that details about what happened at Bolt Hole will certainly reach the Kremlin and will certainly do your reputation little good there, but, in my opinion, what you did for Lady Monica Starling was magnificent, and I'm sure her friends will share that view."

"Yes, but unfortunately they are all on the wrong side, and don't try to make me out to be some kind of a good guy, not at this stage, Selim. I found out who I truly was all those years ago when I shot dead those four men who'd murdered Rosaleen Coogan. What I am is what I am. It can't be changed now."

"So what next?" Selim said.

"Algiers, I think. I'll see you soon."

Algiers it was, three days later, sitting on the terrace of the old Moorish villa on the hill overlooking the harbor, drinking ice-cold lager. three days later, sitting on the terrace of the old Moorish villa on the hill overlooking the harbor, drinking ice-cold lager.

"So what now?" Malik asked. "Back to business?"

"The death business? G.o.d help us, but there's got to be something better. Anyway, the Russians can be very unforgiving. It might be a good idea to vanish into the desert again for a while."

"I don't think you need to worry about any idea of vengeance anymore. There was an interesting story on CNN on the television this morning. I saw it just before you arrived."

"What was it?"

"I'd really prefer you to see for yourself. We'll go in the study. They repeat these things on the hour." So they sat together and waited, and, there it was, an announcement from the White House.

The great Russian novelist, Alexander Kurbsky, suffering from leukemia, had quietly arrived in Florida to seek the finest help available. The President himself welcomed the chance for the United States to offer the very latest in treatment for this truly great man. He was delighted to know how much the government of the Russian Federation had given their support to the move. In the care of his aunt Svetlana and friends, Mr. Kurbsky was recuperating under medical supervision on Heron Island. It had been suggested that he could be a n.o.bel Prize winner next year, and Prime Minister Vladimir Putin applauded the idea wholeheartedly.

Malik switched off. "How clever. It takes care of so many things, including you. I'll go and open the champagne. Your troubles are over."

"If you believe that, you'll believe anything," Daniel said.

He went out and walked to the bal.u.s.trade of the terrace overlooking the harbor, and his Codex sounded. He hesitated, for it could be anyone-Lermov, Chekhov, even Putin himself-but there was no point trying to hide.

"Is that you, Mr. Holley? This is Charles Ferguson."

Ah. Charles Ferguson. Daniel took a deep breath. "How did you get my number?"

"Max Chekhov. I had my people lift him once Monica Starling filled us in on Bolt Hole. He told us all about you."

"The Russians won't like that."

"Then Max will have to keep his door locked," Ferguson said.

"So what do you want with me, now that you know who I am?" Daniel asked.

"I just wanted to thank you for saving Monica's life from that raving lunatic and his sergeant."

"Very civil of you. Any news on Colonel Lermov?"

"Back in Moscow, and, if he's half the man I think he is, he'll have already managed to shift the blame onto the shoulders of the late, unlamented Ivanov." Ferguson paused. "Your plan of attack, Daniel, was really very good. Even Putin will have to admit that. He'll try to pull you back in, you know."

"He can try all he wants. I'm done with him."

"And you think you can survive his displeasure on your own, without friends?"

"Friends like you, General?" Daniel's laugh was short and cold. "You and the Russians-you're two sides of the same coin. There's nothing to choose between you."

"I'm sorry you feel that way. But you know, Daniel, situations have a way of changing. You have my number now. You know where to reach me. Watch your back, Daniel-and, again, many thanks for what you did for Monica."

The line went dead. Daniel checked and, yes, there was Ferguson's number, stored in his phone. Just a click away . . .

He knew there would come a time when he would have to use it, and he knew he would regret it.

He put the phone down on a small table, lay on the cane recliner, looked up at the sun, and closed his eyes.

His troubles had just begun, and there was much to prepare for.

ALSO BY JACK HIGGINS.

A Darker Place

Rough Justice

The Killing Ground

Without Mercy

Dark Justice

Bad Company

Midnight Runner

Keys of h.e.l.l

Edge of Danger

Day of Reckoning

Pay the Devil

The White House Connection

Flight of Eagles

The President's Daughter

Year of the Tiger

Drink with the Devil

Angel of Death

Sheba

On Dangerous Ground

Thunder Point

Eye of the Storm

The Eagle Has Flown

Cold Harbor

Memories of a Dance-Hall Romeo

A Season in h.e.l.l

Night of the Fox

Confessional

Exocet

Touch the Devil

Luciano's Luck