'Why, the Earl, sir.'

As she removed the cork, Dillon looked round the room. There was no sign of Rashid. The girl poured, offered Billy one and he waved it away.

'The Earl doesn't seem to be here.' Dillon emptied the glass in a single swallow.

The girl looked bewildered. 'That's strange, sir. He was at the fireplace with Lady Kate.'

'Did he say anything else?'

'Oh, yes, he said if you'd call in, he'd buy you the other half.'

'Well, that's nice of him.'

'Another glass, sir?'

'No, thanks. I'll have a large Bushmills whiskey. It could be my last. No water.'

She gave it to him. Betty Moody moved in from the back kitchen. Her face was swollen with weeping. Dillon raised his glass.

'A terrible day for you, Mrs Moody.'

'For all of us.'

He said, 'L'chaim' and swallowed the Bushmills down.

'L'chaim? What's that?'

'A Hebrew toast. It means "to life".' He put down his glass and turned to Billy. 'We must go,' and led the way out.

Dauncey Place was quiet when Rashid and his sister went in through the massive door and entered the Great Hall. As he had arranged, there was no staff: it was theirs alone. The logs burned in the fireplace, and on the centre table was an ice bucket with a bottle of Bollinger and four glasses. He helped her off with her raincoat and moved to open the champagne bottle.

'Why four glasses?' she asked. 'Two for Dillon and Billy Salter.' He poured. 'They'll come and I'm a gracious host, both as a Rashid and a Dauncey.' He gave her a glass and raised his own. 'To us, little sister, and George and Michael, and to Dillon.'

She drank a little. 'You don't hate him.' It was a statement, not a question.

He shrugged. 'Kate, our father was a soldier and took a soldier's risks. Sean Dillon is a soldier, I am still a soldier, George took a soldier's risks in Hazar, Michael at Wapping. Each time, Dillon took the same risks.' 'You really think that?'

'Of course.' He raised his glass. 'To Sean Dillon from Paul Rashid, one brave man to another.' She said, 'Do you want to do this, brother?' He refilled his glass. 'My darling girl, I've done everything in my time, put my life on the line, made incredible riches, but at the end of the day how much money can you spend?' "So what's important?'

' I suspect Dillon would say the game.' 'And that's how you see it?'

He swallowed his champagne and laughed out loud. 'Oh, yes, Kate, the only game in town.'

The fire crackled, it was very quiet. She looked around the Great Hall. 'All we have ever been as Daunceys.'

'All our yesterdays is the phrase.'

'So what happens now?'

'Dillon will come with Billy Salter.'

'And what do you do?'

'Face him, Kate, a far more interesting prospect than making another billion.'

There was a long pause, and she sighed. 'You haven't answered, Paul.'

By the champagne bucket, there were two small transceivers. He picked one up. 'These are very simple things. Press the red button and you're in touch with me.'

'But why?'

He smiled. 'I'll explain, but first you must have a final glass with me.'

'I don't like that. It's as if you're saying goodbye.'

'Never, my darling. We'll always be together, always.'

Dillon and Billy found Baxter, drove up to Dauncey Place in the Jaguar and pulled into the stable yard. They got out, Baxter opened the boot and Dillon unzipped the weaponry bag. He took out two Walthers, put one in his belt at the rear, and gave the other to Billy.

"Is this it?' Billy asked.

'No.' Dillon took out two Parker-Hales. 'Just like Rama.' He put one in the left-hand pocket of his coat.

'So how do we do it?' Billy asked. 'Unless he's brought reinforcements, he's in there with his sister, but I'd discount her.' 'How do you know?' "Just a feeling.'

'So we knock on the front door?' Maybe it's open. Let's see. You come with us, Joe, and bring your Browning.'

The three of them went up the steps of the great pillared doorway. Dillon tried the ornate handle, the ring in the lion's mouth. The door opened a couple of inches and he closed it.

'Too obvious an invitation. Let's try the terrace.' Exactly as Rashid had anticipated. They moved along the series of french windows that fronted the library. One of them stood open.

'So, he's giving us a chance.'

Inside, between ornate curtains, was a book cupboard, the kind of thing usually concealed and painted in seventeenth-century Italian style. It stood slightly open, Kate inside.

'Now what?' Billy asked.

'I'll take the front door, you go this way, only try not to shoot me by mistake.' Dillon turned to Baxter. 'You go round the back of the house. Fire the Browning in the air three times and take off the Carswell so he'll hear it.'

'And think we're coming in that way? That's crap,' Billy told him.

'I know, but it's the best I can do. Billy, it's a question of what Rashid wants to do.' He turned to Baxter. 'On your way and we'll go straight in. See you, Billy.'

'In hell,' Billy told him.

'No chance. A bottle of champagne for me and Irish stew for both of us at the Dark Man,' and Dillon moved away.

Kate, having heard everything, closed the cupboard door and signalled her brother. He responded at once. 'What's happening?' She told him. He said, 'Good. I'll draw him up to the Bell Tower, meet him on Angel Terrace. You stay out of it.'

He clicked off. Up there, on the minstrel gallery, he moved to the balustrade holding a silenced AK-47, its butt folded. He was still wearing his uniform, but no cap. He waited.

The shots rang out, Baxter ran for it, Billy pushed the window in and went through. Dillon, at the front door, turned the lion's head handle and moved in.

The hall was a place of shadows, flames from the burning logs reflected in a strange way. Dillon was behind the chairs of the enormous dining table. Rashid saw him for a moment but didn't bother to fire.

'Hey, Dillon. Why the big coat? Parker-Hale in the pocket?' Dillon crouched, the Walther in his hand. 'I can see you. Infra-red sight. I'm up here on the minstrel gallery. Take the main staircase, then what we call the Blue Arch to the circular stairway up the Bell Tower. Angel Terrace is above the leads. I'll wait for you, if you have the courage. If you need a machine pistol, okay, but a Walther's fine with me, or bare fists.'

He laughed and the library door creaked open. Billy whispered, 'You there, Dillon?'

Using his infra-red sight, Rashid targeted the chest and fired twice. Dillon recognized the distinctive muted crack of a silenced AK-47 at once. Billy was hurled back.

'One down,' Rashid called, and his laughter faded away.

Dillon crawled to Billy, who moaned, gasped for breath. Dillon tore his shirt open, felt around and found the two rounds sticking in the titanium waistcoat.

'Take your time,' he whispered. 'You've got traumatic shock to the cardiovascular system, but the vest stopped penetration. Buy shares in the Wilkinson Sword Company.' Billy gasped, 'I'll make it.' 'Hang on until your breathing is right. I'm going up this Bell Tower after him.'

He stood, took off his coat and left it with the Parker-Hale. When he crossed the hall and went up the stairs, his only weapon was the Walther in his right hand.

Billy lay there, trying to steady his breathing. The library door behind him creaked again. Lady Kate Rashid peered down at him, then dashed across the hall and went up the great staircase after Dillon.

Dillon took no particular precautions going up the circular stairway of the Bell Tower. Rashid wanted him on top, wanted to face him, that was an essential part of the situation. Beside the door at the top was a slit window. He peered through. What was obviously the Angel Terrace curled away, with no sign of Rashid.

Dillon opened the door, flattened himself to one side and looked out. The rain had increased into an almost tropic downpour. There was a curved railing and on the other side, the old-fashioned roof, made of sheets of lead, sloped down to an edge that looked like a foot of granite.