He moved up beside Billy and confronted Hasim, who crouched defiantly, the baseball bat ready to swing, 'What's your game?'

'Go fuck yourself,' Hasim snarled.

'Don't waste my time. I'm Harry Salter; everybody knows that. I own half of Wapping and you, you maggot, come along here and have a go at a boat I've spent thousands restoring. That isn't your usual petty vandalism; it was a personal attack on me. So who put you up to it?'

'I've told you what you can do.'

'We're wasting time here,' Billy said. 'Let me put a shot in his right kneecap. That should jog his memory.'

Hasim suddenly looked uncertain, but lengthened his double-handed grip on the baseball bat. Dillon pulled out his own Walther and shot the bat out of Hasim's hand, who jumped back in alarm as it bounced on the cobbles of the jetty, rolling towards Harry, who picked it up, examined the splintered end and stood there, holding it.

'Take him,' he said.

Hasim made a sudden move as if to attempt to run past, Baxter tripped him, and he and Hall pulled him up between them. Billy and Dillon put their Walthers away and stood watching.

Harry said, 'Somebody put you up to this, and I want to know who.' Hasim spat at him, Harry took his handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped his face. 'Very nice that, isn't it? I've had enough. Just hold out his right arm.'

Hasim went crazy, struggling in the grip of the two men. They punched him several times to bring him under control and stretched out his arm.

'Not that,' he screamed, as the bat was raised. 'I'm a boxer.'

Salter was astonished for a moment, then smiled. 'Well, that's good news, because if you don't tell me what I want to hear, I'll break both your arms.'

Half sobbing, Hasim couldn't get it out quick enough; he told them everything about his dealings with Lancy.

When he was finished, Harry Salter said, 'And you expect me to believe that's the way this geezer operates: a voice on the phone and payment by mail?'

'I swear it's true,' Hasim said. 'I can't tell you anything else about him. On my mother's life.'

'What does he sound like?' Dillon put in.

'Cockney, no doubt about that, but I think he's Muslim. When he gave me this job, he spoke in Arabic for the first time. It was when he was saying goodbye.'

'And what did he say?' Dillon asked.

'He said Allah is great and Osama is his prophet.'

'Are you sure about that?' Dillon added. 'It should be Mohammed is his prophet.'

'He said Osama.'

Dillon and Billy exchanged glances. Harry tossed the baseball bat into the river. Hasim said, 'What happens now?'

Harry took out his wallet and extracted a fifty-pound note and gave it to him. 'Take that and run after your mate. He won't have got far. Give him a hand to the hospital. It's a good thing for you I'm in a friendly mood. If I see you round here again, I'll kill you.'

Hasim took to his heels, and ran into the darkness, and the others returned to the Dark Man and joined Roper and Holley in the corner booth. Selim Lancy, who had observed everything from his Mercedes parked nearby, got out, put his hearing enhancer in his right ear, and followed. He saw the others settling themselves back in the corner booth. Selim got a pint, went and sat in the next booth, which was unoccupied, and opened an Evening Standard he'd been carrying.

'So what happened out there?' Roper demanded.

It was Billy who answered, and it didn't take long. The end of the story was what mattered most. 'Allah is great and Osama is his prophet, that's what he said.'

'Could that mean Al Qaeda's behind it?' Harry asked.

'I'd say definitely. I think we all have to be on our guard from now on.'

'I'm frightened to death, and I'm also starving,' Harry Salter said, and called to Dora, 'What about our supper, love? Bring on the hotpots!' Lancy left shortly afterwards and called Hasim from the car. When he answered, he said, 'I was there, sitting in a car outside the Dark Man. I saw everything. Where are you now?'

'I just delivered Sajid to St Luke's Hospital. His arm's so badly broken they've admitted him.'

'And your other pal decided to go for a swim?' Lancy shook his head. 'Why didn't Salter break your arm?'

'How the hell would I know?'

'I think you blabbed, my old son. In fact, I was listening to what they were saying in the pub, and I know you did. They know it was Al Qaeda.'

'That isn't true!' Hasim was suddenly desperate. 'I didn't say a word to Salter!'

'You're a dead man, sunshine,' Lancy told him. 'I know you, but you don't know me. Think about it.'

He switched off his mobile and drove away. At Talbot Place, dinner had been late because Jean had insisted on Jack and Hannah Kelly joining them. 'We'll make an occasion of it,' she told Justin.

She did just that herself, wearing her hair up and finding an attractive dress in green silk by Versace that she hadn't worn for some time. With high-heeled shoes, she looked quietly attractive as she descended the stairs. Justin, who had just gone down himself, greeted her with a glass of Krug, holding one for himself.

'You know what they say.' He smiled. 'If you're tired of champagne, you're tired of life.' He raised his glass. 'To you, Mum, you look absolutely smashing.'

'You don't look too bad yourself.'

He wore a black single-breasted suit, white shirt and Guards tie, his dark hair cropped. He still had slight stubble on his chin.

She touched it. 'What's this? Did you run out of razor blades?'

'It's the fashion at the moment. I think it's meant to make you look as if you've done things and been places.'

'But you've done both, you idiot.' She shook her head. 'Honestly, men are the end sometimes. Has Jack arrived?'

'He's in the kitchen, where Hannah is running around like a dervish. Young Jane has produced her waitress outfit, black dress and white apron. She looks quite charming.'

'And your grandfather, have you seen him?'

'Must I?' He immediately regretted it. 'I'm so sorry. Callous of me when I think of how much you've put up with.'

Jack Kelly appeared from the dining room, looking slightly old-fashioned in a tweed country suit, soft-collared shirt and knitted tie. 'You look grand, girl,' he told Jean, and kissed her on the cheek.

'An evening for compliments.' She smiled. 'Get him a drink and I'll see how things are coming along in the kitchen.'

Talbot found Kelly a Bushmills Whiskey in the study bar. 'Here's to you, Jack. What you and Hannah have done to support my mother is beyond price.'

'How is he?'

'We'll take a look.'

'Quietly is my advice,' Kelly told him. 'One minute he's sitting there like a living dead man and then, and often for some unknown reason, he explodes into one of his worst moments, screaming obscenities, slashing out with the blackthorn stick. God save us, but he could kill somebody with one of his blows.'

'So I believe.'

In the conservatory, they walked softly along the path. Murphy saw them coming and nodded slightly. Colonel Henry seemed somnolent; his head had fallen to one side and it was shaking slightly.

'Is that enough for you?' Kelly asked.

'What do you think, Jack?' Talbot's face was bleak. 'Let's go and eat.' The meal was simple but sensational: an onion soup with cheese that wouldn't have disgraced the best of Paris restaurants, lamb chops that were simply superb, cabbage and bacon, Irish-style, and roast potatoes. Young Jane in her waitress outfit acted the part to perfection, serving wine as to the manner born, left hand behind her back.

'I can't remember when I last ate like that,' Justin said as Jane cleared the plates on to a serving trolley.

'Well, it's not over yet,' Hannah told him. 'We've got your special favourite since you were a boy.'

'Emily's apple pie,' Justin said.