Levin got up and said to Bell, “I’m going out to my Mercedes and I’m going to drive away. If you move fast, you can join me, but not unless this idiot here keeps his mouth shut.”

He walked out, got behind the wheel of the Mercedes, and Bell and Ashimov scrambled in behind. “There are two AK47s in the back of the car,” Levin said. “We’ll be where we’re going in half an hour. Now keep quiet while I explain what I know of the situation. I’m letting you know now, I can’t guarantee who’ll be there other than the Zubins.”

Ashimov was burning. “I’ll have you court-martialed for this.”

Levin pulled in at the curb, leaned back and drove his elbow into Ashimov’s mouth. “Any more, and I’ll kick you out. Now make up your mind.”

Ashimov put a handkerchief to his bloodied mouth, Bell leaned over and patted Levin on the shoulder. “Just take us there and let’s get this thing over with.”

“Then persuade your friend.”

At Hangman’s Wharf, Levin parked by the development, got out and opened the rear compartment. Bell and Ashimov joined him. “There are your weapons.” He turned and waved, and Popov, on the deck of the boat, ran forward through the gathering darkness.

“Yes, Captain.”

“They’re upstairs, are they?” Levin looked up at the lights in the penthouse.

“There was food and booze delivered earlier, when the Salters arrived.”

“No minders?”

“None. A short while ago, a Daimler appeared. The Zubins, Ferguson and Dillon and Major Novikova.”

“Greta? Really? How interesting. Well… you’ve done a good job. Now get out of here. Tell Chomsky I’ve said he can do the same for you. He’ll know what I mean.”

Popov cleared off rapidly. Bell said, “Now what?”

“Well, I’ll go and sort the security guard out. Once that’s done I’ll call you.”

He walked in the foyer, lighting a cigarette, and found Tony Small watering potted plants beside a huge fish tank. He turned and smiled. “Can I help you, sir?”

“Not really, old chap.” Levin pulled a silenced Walther from his raincoat pocket and struck him across the side of the head. Small went down like a stone. Levin grasped him by the collar, dragged him behind the reception desk, opened the office door and deposited him inside. Then he locked the door. He turned and whistled, and Ashimov and Bell hastened to join him.

“Over here.” He led the way to the lifts and pressed the right button. “All the way to the sixth floor and there’s your party, Major.”

The open-plan kitchen of the penthouse was ideal for the kind of entertaining Harry had in mind. There was caviar, prawns, salads, Dom Pérignon champagne. Greta, having been warmly received by Bella, busied herself offering caviar on toast while Billy saw to the champagne.

“It’s perfect,” he said to Ferguson. “They’ll be way up over the world here. I mean, look at the views.” He pulled one shutter after another to the side and stepped out on the hardwood terrace and leaned on the rail. “It’s fantastic.” Lights sparkled on a passing boat in the gathering darkness below.

“It certainly is,” Ferguson said, and went back inside. “Bella, Max. Do you think you could put up with staying here for a while?”

“My dear General, who couldn’t?” Bella said.

“First-rate security,” Harry said, as Billy went round topping up the champagne. “Or it will be when we’re up and running properly, you’ll have no worries here. Drink up, folks. To a job well done – to friendship.”

They all joined in the toast, glasses raised, crystal lights illuminating the magnificent vista of the huge penthouse, the shutters opening to the terraces outside, lights from the river below. And at the far end of the entrance corridor, the lift came smoothly to a halt and Igor Levin led the way out, followed by Ashimov and Bell.

Ashimov, his AK held at the ready, brushed Levin to the side roughly. “Where are they? Let me get at them.”

He half-ran along the corridor, Levin went after him, a Walther in his hand and pursued by Bell. There was immediate shock in the party group, but Ashimov fired into the ceiling.

“Hold it – everybody. Just do as you’re told. Hands on heads!”

Levin moved to one side and stood with his back to one of the entrances to the terrace outside. The men hesitated, then did as they were told.

Greta glanced at Levin. “Igor, what a surprise.”

“Not as much as you being here, you traitoress bitch. I should shoot you myself,” Ashimov said.

He held the AK on his hip, covering them. Bell did the same; Levin’s right hand hung at his side, holding the Walther.

Ferguson said, “You’ve got it wrong. Major Novikova is my prisoner. She is not here of her own free will.”

Ashimov stepped forward at once and smacked the butt of his AK into the side of Ferguson’s neck. The General went down with a groan, falling against Harry, who tried to catch him, leaning over, and Ashimov gave him the same as Ferguson in the back of the neck.

Max Zubin held his mother close. Billy and Dillon stood there, hands behind the neck, Greta between them, trembling a little.

Ashimov said, “So, shaking with fear, are you?” She shook her head. “You should. You’re a disgrace to your uniform.”

“You disgrace my country by your very existence, you animal.”

He struck her backhanded across the face, sending her staggering into Dillon, who caught her. Ashimov said, “A traitor to her country, Captain Levin.” There was a strange formality to the way he spoke. “You may have the honor of executing her.”

There was a stunned silence. Bella said, “You take me back to the Gulag. Many people like you in charge there. No better than Nazis.”

“Shut up, old woman, your turn will come.” He looked at Levin. “I gave you an order. Shoot Major Novikova.”

There was a pause while everyone waited. Levin had raised the Walther slightly, but now he said, “Sorry I can’t oblige, but I don’t think I want to do that.”

His hand came up fast, but not fast enough, as Ashimov fired two rounds slamming into Levin’s chest, sending him out on the terrace to go backward over the hardwood rail and down into the river below.

Dillon pushed Greta to one side, his hand went under his jacket at the rear, the Walther came up smoothly and he shot Ashimov in the forehead twice. Billy, on one knee, had reached for the Colt.25 in his ankle holster and caught Bell with a heart shot. The Irishman went backward, involuntarily firing at the ceiling for a moment.

Greta ran out to the terrace rail and peered down into the dark. “My God, Igor.”

Dillon put an arm around her. “It’s a tidal river, the Thames. What goes in goes out one way or the other. At the end, he just couldn’t do it. We all have choices.”

Behind them they heard Ferguson on the phone. “Ferguson here. I’ve got two disposals for you. Most immediate.” He gave the address.

Greta said, “What does he mean, disposal?”

“We have access to a private crematorium in North London. The corpse goes in for thirty minutes. What’s left is six pounds of gray ash.”

“And Ferguson can do that?”

“Ferguson can do anything.”

Harry said, “I feel well-used. The bastard could certainly dish it out.” He poured champagne down and swallowed it. “Come on, everybody. Another drink, then we’ll see you home.”

Ferguson said to Bella and Zubin, “I think you’ll find this is the end of the affair.”

“A short run,” Bella said. “And thank God for it.”

The lift returned and Billy got out. “I found the security guard, Tony Small, in the back of reception. No serious damage, just a sore head. I told him it was a mob thing. Five hundred quid will keep him happy.”

“We’ll get you good people back home,” Ferguson said. “I’ll leave you and Billy to handle the disposal people, Harry.”

“We’ll be in touch, General.”