“No, he’s needed at an important meeting in Brussels.”

“How interesting. I didn’t realize we were now in the European Union.”

“That is not amusing. You book into the Ritz immediately. This is to guarantee your presence the next day. As I’ve already made clear, the ceremony is at seven. You return to Moscow in the jet at ten o’clock Thursday morning from Charles de Gaulle.”

“Well, there you go, lads,” Kurbsky said. “No chance even to get laid.”

“Your kind of frivolity does not amuse me, Kurbsky.” Gregorovich closed his briefcase and put his hat on. “The Motherland has treated you well. I would suggest you remember that.”

“Oh, I will, I will,” Kurbsky assured him.

Gregorovich got up. “Good morning. I can’t wait to get back to Moscow and sanity.” He opened the door and paused. “I don’t like you, Kurbsky. I never approved. They spoil you too much. But what goes around comes around. You should remember that.”

He went out. Ivanov and his friends looked troubled. Kurbsky stood up. “Don’t worry, lads, he’s been a desk man all his career. Guys like that hate real soldiers for obvious reasons. Anyway, I’m going for a run. I don’t know what you lot are going to do, but if you want to keep up with me, you’ll have to get your running shoes on.”

He left them there, ran through the hall and out across the car park, where he saw Gregorovich leaving in his limousine, went down the terrace steps, and ran toward the orchards and the woods in the distance.

AT HOLLAND PARK, Katya Zorin finished demonstrating her reconstruction of Alexander Kurbsky to the full crew, including Ferguson and the Salters.

“You’ve got to admit, it’s brilliant,” Harry said. “Absolute genius. I’ve known a lot of villains over the years who’d have paid you a fortune to have given them a workover like that,” he told Katya.

“I’m for it completely,” Ferguson said. “Is everyone agreed?” They all nodded. “Good, now his identity. I’ll give it to the MI6 Office Five forgery department. A French father, an English mother, born here. Parents dead, and so on and so on. He’ll need documentation from the Royal Marsden and insertion into their system. London University, English degree. Journalist. Maybe a war correspondent in the Balkans, something like that. Passport filled with all the right stamps. Henri Duval-that name sound about right?”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Monica said. “You should have been a writer yourself.”

“Leave it to that nice lady at Office Five,” Dillon urged him. “So can we get down to how we lift him?”

Ferguson said, “ A fast flight out, I’d say. Nothing official. If Parry and Lacey do it, it’s got to be out of the way somewhere. Certainly no airport in the Paris area. There are plenty of small airfields in Brittany that deal with business clients. I’ll speak to Squadron Leader Lacey and put it in his hands.”

“And who goes to Paris?” Dillon asked.

“You and Billy.”

Billy smiled coldly. “That suits me fine.”

At that moment, Monica’s phone rang. It was Kurbsky. “I haven’t got long. Listen carefully. I fly down to Charles de Gaulle on Tuesday, arriving in the evening. The Ministry has decided to splash out, so I’ll be at the Ritz with my three minders. The ceremony is at seven on Wednesday evening. We fly back from Charles de Gaulle at ten on Thursday morning.”

His voice echoed over the speakers. Roper said, “We’ve got that. We’ll work out how to snatch you and tell you next time you call.”

“Have you come up with a way of guaranteeing my anonymity?”

“Absolutely. Katya Zorin has come up with a most ingenious suggestion. It will make you into a totally different person-one that no one would recognize as Alexander Kurbsky. You must trust us on this.”

“All right. But I must go now. My minders are looking for me.”

Ferguson said, “The Ritz, by God. He should surely be able to give them the slip from there.”

“I would say so,” Dillon told him.

Katya said, “I’ll be on my way,” and left.

Ferguson said, “There is one other matter, now that Katya’s gone, so sit down again for a minute. The six of us make a nice tight crew, but it’s starting to go at the edges. First Katya and Svetlana. Now I’m going to have to include Lacey and Parry.”

“Yes, Charles, but come off it. Those guys have supported us for years. We’ve been to the war zones with him: They brought Billy back from Hazar, shot to pieces. If you can’t trust them, who can you?”

“All right, I accept that, but what I’m working my way up to saying is that I haven’t informed the Prime Minister.”

“Jesus,” Billy said.

“Is that legal?” Harry put in.

“Since when have we ever been legal?” Dillon told him. “So what exactly are you getting at, Charles?”

“If we tell the Prime Minister, we have to tell Blake Johnson.”

“The man who was in Kosovo with my brother?” Monica said.

“He does for President Cazalet what I do for the Prime Minister. We usually do things in tandem.”

“I see,” she said. “Does that give you a problem?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I mention it. I’d appreciate your opinions, so just think about it. We’ll leave it at that for the moment.”

KURBSKY HAD MADE his call from an old ruined chapel in the wood beyond the orchard. It had a distant view of the house to one side of the track, and he’d been able to keep an eye out for the three young men as they approached, searching for him.

“Where is the bastard?” Kokonin was saying.

“He’s playing with us, I’m sure of it,” Ivanov told him.

Kurbsky let them pass and vanish into the wood and lit a cigarette. So the enterprise was afoot. It struck Kurbsky as ironic that Ferguson and company were going to such trouble to extract him and to protect his identity when his own people were aware of everything-his new identity, where he was living.

But that, of course, would depend on him. What if he kept his identity completely to himself? Thanks to the mobile phone, the greatest invention of all time in some ways, he could receive encrypted calls from people who did not know where he was. He could also make calls that could not be traced.

So he, who had been a prisoner of his own people, was now in a strange way free to do what his people wanted or to refuse. It was absolutely beautiful, and then he remembered Tania at Station Gorky and realized that his thoughts of freedom had only been an illusion.

There were voices down below on the track, and he emerged from the ruins and ran down the hill and confronted them. “Were you looking for someone?”

They seemed put out, then Ivanov laughed. “Damn you, you’ve been playing with us again.”

“Well, there isn’t much else to do round here, but there’s Paris to look forward to. Great chambermaids at the Ritz. You never know, you could get lucky.”

They smiled at that, but Ivanov said, “Chance would be a fine thing. One of us has always got to be on guard in your suite.”

Kurbsky, who had expected such a thing, said amiably, “And how are you going to manage that?”

“I have to work out a rota,” Ivanov said.

“Well, that’s okay. It means that when one of you is busy watching me, the other two can play.” He grinned. “I’m starving. Lunchtime, lads, so race me back.” He ran away from them very fast.

THE ONE TIME he was assured of total privacy was when he stayed in the house, using the bar facilities or the gymnasium and swimming pool or the extensive library, which included computers. Luzhkov had provided him with codes offering access to classified GRU information, and after lunch he sat down, brought up a screen, and accessed the British Security Services.

There was plenty of history there-the traitors who had worked for the KGB, for instance: Philby, Burgess, Maclean, and many, many more than the general public in Britain had probably ever known about. One thing wasn’t there, though-nowhere in the files was there any mention of General Charles Ferguson and his organization. The security force known in the trade as the Prime Minister’s private army simply did not exist.