Levin had decided on the direct approach. “I know all about the whole bloody mess.”

“God, if I could get my hands on Dillon,” Ashimov said.

“Well, you can’t, old stick. So, Volkov’s told you to come home, is that it?”

“Yes!”

“We all know what that means.”

“I’m coming over,” Ashimov said, and his desperation was plain. “If we could find where they have Zubin and his mother, I could deal with them.”

“Get them back to Russia, you mean? I think it’s too late for that.”

“They can end up in the Thames as far as I’m concerned,” Ashimov exploded. “Just find out where they are. Dammit, you’ve got all the resources of the GRU – find out! I’ll be flying into Archbury.”

“Alone?”

“No, Bell has agreed to accompany me.”

“Out of loyalty or for money?”

“Money, of course.”

“Always the best way. I’ll see what I can do.”

He sat there, thinking about it. There had been a disturbing edge of madness about Ashimov, but maybe there always had been. Still, he had a certain duty in this matter, so he found his coat, called for his Mercedes and drove to the Russian Embassy in Kensington.

In his office, Luhzkov sat and listened as Levin made certain demands.

“But this is really asking too much, Igor. You ask for full cooperation from us at every level. How can I agree to it when I don’t even know what is so urgent that you request this?”

Levin produced his mobile, made a call and said, “It’s good to speak to you, General. I’m having problems with Colonel Luhzkov at the London Embassy. He questions the importance of my mission.” He listened, then passed the phone across. “General Volkov would appreciate a word.”

Volkov said, “You’ve got a good record, Luhzkov, you’re a fine officer. I’m amazed at your attitude in this matter. I’m sure Levin misheard. Ask him to speak to me again.”

Luhzkov did, already trembling. Levin listened, then said, “Of course, General.”

He took the Putin warrant from his pocket and laid it before the Colonel. Luhzkov read it, remembering when Levin had first shown it to him in the pub, and Volkov said, “Would you dispute an order from your President, Colonel?”

“Of course not, General, anything I can do, anything.”

“This is a matter of the highest state security, Colonel. Captain Levin acts not only with my total authority, as head of the GRU, but under direct order from the President himself.”

“I understand, General.” Luhzkov was in deep water and he realized it.

“In this matter, Captain Levin has total control. I’ve already spoken to the Ambassador. Until the present emergency is solved, Captain Levin is in charge and will be offered every assistance.”

“Anything I can do, you may rely on me, General.”

He handed the phone to Levin, his face very pale. Levin said, “Look, General, I don’t know what you expect all this to achieve, but I’ll do what Ashimov wants. You do realize he’s a madman, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“And I’m not.”

“Actually, that’s what I’m relying on.”

Volkov switched off and Levin put the mobile in his pocket. “The first thing you do, Luhzkov, is speak to Ferguson and ask for any news he has of the whereabouts of Major Greta Novikova. You will tell him you have information that she’s being held at Holland Park. As a diplomatic attaché at our Embassy, she is entitled to diplomatic immunity and the right to be returned to Russia.”

“Can this be true?”

“For God’s sake, Boris, get real. The days of shepherd’s pie and beer at the pub are long gone. Do it!”

“As you say.”

“I do say. You also make it clear to all GRU personnel in the Embassy that I’m in charge. Anything I want, I get. Men, equipment, whatever.”

“Of course.”

“As long as we know where we are.” Levin smiled. “I’d better go and get on with it.”

He arranged a command center at the Embassy, with a Sergeant Chomsky in charge of communications. A team of six men followed, with full use of anything needed in the vehicle pool. Suzuki motorcycles figured largely, there was a Telecom van in the garage, and another rather artistic van, emblazoned with signs claiming to belong to a courier service.

Levin assembled Chomsky and the men. “Line up.”

They did and he allowed each man to read the Putin warrant. “Any questions?” he asked. No one said a word. “This is a matter of extreme importance, so nobody questions, nobody argues. If you do, I’ll have you sent to a very unpleasant place. Chomsky?”

“At your orders, Captain.”

“Sergeant Chomsky and I survived Afghanistan and Chechnya. London is far preferable, so we’ve no intention of fucking up here, have we, Sergeant?”

“Absolutely not, sir.”

“Good. I’ll issue a list of my requirements. Anything you want, you get.” He smiled. “Except women. Women are your responsibility.”

He walked away from the motor pool. The men laughed nervously. One of them said, “Where’d he get an accent like that? And that suit! What is he, some kind of ponce?”

Chomsky gave him a long look. “I wouldn’t advise you letting him hear you say that. He’d kill you and smile while he’s doing it. Now let’s get to work.”

The safe house at Holland Park was an obvious target. A few yards up the road, Chomsky had a Telecom van parked, a manhole cover up, a man in a yellow jacket and helmet working. He was backed up by a motorcyclist in a side street.

In Cavendish Place outside Ferguson’s apartment, a gardener was working in the central area of the square.

Levin debated about Dillon’s cottage in Stable Mews, but decided against it. More and more, he felt an affinity with Dillon.

He said to Chomsky, “Not Dillon. Anything in the slightest way out of the ordinary near his place, and he’d smell it like a hound dog. I would.”

Chomsky, a law student who’d only joined the army as a conscript, had fed on Afghanistan and Chechnya and found he liked it. He had immersed himself in the files of the whole affair.

“I don’t think they’d put them up in a hotel, sir, so Holland Park makes sense, probably as a temporary measure.”

“And what comes after?”

“God knows. Some sort of house elsewhere. If the Captain will allow me?” He opened a file. “I took the liberty of accessing these gangsters, the Salters. They make the Moscow Mafia look like rubbish. Millionaires many times over.”

“You’re too smart for your own good, Chomsky. I’d forgotten you spent two years training for the law before the army.”

“They own houses and developments all over London, sir. I don’t mean rubbish. First-class stuff in some of the most exclusive squares.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Everything stems from Hangman’s Wharf, sir, the Dark Man. I’ve been and looked. Boats of every kind tie up at the wharf, some people live in them, others work on them. I found one for rent almost opposite the pub. I’ll put Popov in it. His English is excellent. He can spend his time painting the damn boat or whatever. He’ll have a Suzuki. Who knows what might come out of the Dark Man.”

“Excellent,” Levin told him. “They all seem enthusiastic.”

“It’s a little different from that, sir.” Chomsky was almost apologetic. “They like it here, they like life in London. They don’t want to screw up and get sent home.”

“Dear God, what’s the world coming to? Okay, straight to work. I need to know where the Zubins are being held as soon as possible.”

At Holland Park, Max Zubin and his mother were handed over to Sergeant Doyle. “Temporary accommodation, I promise you,” said Ferguson.

After they’d gone upstairs, he went in to Roper. “God, I feel knocked out. I can’t believe it worked.”

“Thanks to Dillon and Billy Salter.” Roper lit a cigarette. “Dillon’s had a death wish for years. I worry that young Billy’s inherited it. Where are they?”