She went back in the room and found Justin arguing with Murphy. 'He wants to give me a body wash, as if I were a bloody schoolboy.'

'Shut your mouth and do as you're told.' She reached behind him, untied the ribbons on his bed smock. 'You'll feel better when Murphy's washed you down and dressed you, so don't be stupid.'

'All right, but you'll have to go out. I'm not a little boy any more.'

She went downstairs, found Hannah and Emily the cook and young Jane, dressed in their best and putting their coats on.

'You remembered we were going to six o'clock Mass,' Hannah told her. 'Murphy promised to go with us.'

'He's just giving Justin a wash and change, but he won't be long. Is Jack going?'

'Not if he can help it, if I know him. To be honest with you, he's putting his time into sorting the office out just in case he leaves.'

'He's not thinking of going after all these years?'

'He doesn't need it, Jean, he's got the pub. And I've got to be honest with you, because I love you. He feels betrayed. I doubt it will ever be the same again between him and Justin.'

Jean gave her a kiss, for she was obviously very upset. 'I'm sorry about Justin, Hannah, and the way it's turned out. I don't know what to say. I'll go and send Murphy on his way.'

'We'll hang on.'

Jean went up in the lift and when she entered Justin's bedroom found him wearing a navy blue track suit. He was sitting in the bedside armchair while Murphy fitted a pair of white sneakers on his feet.

'That's great,' Justin said. 'I feel a hundred per cent better. Prop up the pillows on the bed and I'll lie back.' Which Murphy did, assisting him back up on to it.

Jean said, 'Off you go, Murphy, the ladies are waiting to take you to Mass.'

'I'll see you later,' he said, and hurried out.

There was, for her at least, a slight, awkward silence. 'Can I get you anything?'

'I don't think so.'

'Then I think I'll just go to my studio for a while.'

'Still working on my portrait?'

'No, I decided I'd gone about as far as I could get.'

'And are you happy with it?'

'I think it says what you are and it tells the truth. When I was a student at the Slade, my professor said the most important thing was that your subject was so perfectly realized that it was as if the individual was saying not "this is me", but "this is what I am".'

'And does mine do that?'

'Oh, yes, I think so.'

'Then you must put it over the fireplace in the study.'

'No, I couldn't do that.'

'Why not?'

'I'd always be afraid that somebody would put it on a bonfire.'

She went out. He lay there thinking about what she'd said, then reached down for the rucksack and put it on the bed beside him. It hurt like hell, so he rummaged amongst the things inside and took out the half-bottle of brandy and swallowed some. It burned all the way down and he remembered what Murphy had said, but he was past caring, so he swallowed some more. It was almost six when Holley drove through Kilmartin, people going into church and organ music clearly heard. Dillon kept his head down as they passed the pub and moved along the approach road to Talbot Place, which loomed ahead through beech trees, and then they were at the entrance to the drive.

'How do we play this?' Holley asked.

'I'm remembering that Jack Kelly is the estate manager,' Dillon said. 'They must have an office for him. All these great estates do. Just follow your nose.'

Which Holley did, and then they saw the main entrance porch to the house and at the same time noticed a sign board saying 'Estate Manager', an arrow pointing. There was a Shogun and a Mercedes and they parked their own car with them and walked round to the courtyard and found the office, opened the door without knocking, and walked in.

Jack Kelly was arranging files on a shelf and received a severe shock. He moved to his desk fast, got the drawer open and took out his Browning.

'Put it away, Jack,' Dillon told him. 'We haven't come for you, we've come for Justin.' He took out the national security warrant and put it on the desk. 'Read it.'

Kelly did, his face troubled. 'On whose authority?'

'MI Five's.' Dillon showed him his warrant card. 'Daniel's got one, too.'

'Bloody traitors, the both of ye.'

'You're entitled to your opinion,' Holley said. 'But don't tell us he's not here. His plane is at Belfast City Airport, and since his pilot happened to be in the staff canteen, we took the opportunity of interviewing him. He was most revealing.'

'So we know he's here and in a poorly way,' Dillon said.

Kelly still tried to bluster. 'And what is it he's supposed to have done?'

'If you'll take us to him, you'll discover that. Now where do we go?' Dillon demanded.

Suddenly, it was all too much for Kelly, and he said despairingly, 'Christ, there's no way round this, is there? The silly, stupid, mad young idiot. He's going down and taken the entire house of Talbot with him. Even Colonel Henry couldn't do that. Come on, follow me.'

He brushed past them and led the way out. They went up the stairs together, and it was Kelly who knocked on the door and led the way in. Jean was sitting in an easy chair by the old fireplace, Justin still propped up on the bed.

'Yes, Jack, what is it?' Jean asked, and then Dillon and Holley moved in on either side of him.

'Justin Talbot,' Dillon said. 'We're from MI Five, here to take you into custody.'

'You can't do that.' Justin was surprisingly calm. 'You should have police with you.'

'We dispense with that on special occasions.'

'So what's the charge?'

'There will be many. Your exploits as Shamrock have been better than the midnight movie, you know. And by the way – it wasn't one of us you shot in the Khufra, it was Colonel Ali Hakim.'

Justin laughed out loud. 'You don't say. I think that's really very funny.'

Holley said, 'Hakim also told me the identity of the Preacher before he died. It's Professor Hassan Shah of the London School of Economics – if you're interested.'

'Oh, I am, but it's a pity I didn't know it earlier. I believe he met a bad end.'

'Cyanide poisoning,' Dillon told him.

Justin turned to his mother and said, 'Just like Heinrich Himmler.'

'For God's sake, Justin,' Jean said. 'This isn't funny. They're here to arrest you.'

'I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint them.'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm planning to go down to Drumgoole and fly away in my Beech Baron.'

She was incredibly distressed. 'Justin, this is madness.'

'But I am mad, just like Colonel Henry said. I've always known it.'

His hand went into the rucksack and Holley drew his Walther. Justin produced the half-bottle of brandy, waved it at him and drank deeply. Holley dropped his hand, holding the Walther against his leg. Justin replaced the brandy bottle in the rucksack, pulled out a Browning and shot Holley and Dillon in the chest.

Kelly cowered, raising his hands, and his mother screamed, 'No, Justin.'

He laughed wildly. 'Your lucky day, Jack, I'm out of here.' He pushed Kelly to one side, pulled open the door and lurched out, making for the stairs, reaching for the banister to support him on the way down.

Jean, almost demented, dropped on her knees beside Dillon, but found him taking one deep breath after another, and then already sitting up.

'Body armour,' he gasped. 'It's like being kicked by a mule, but a lot better than being dead.' He was panting, his voice hoarse, but Holley was already stirring in the same way. As Kelly helped him up, Jean turned and ran out.

Justin was making slow progress getting down the stairs, and she caught up with him as he reached the door.

'It's no use, love, there's nowhere to go.'

He knocked her hand away. 'Yes, there bloody well is.' He went down the steps and made by mistake for the Mercedes that Dillon and Holley had parked there.