'You obviously like it, Mr Dillon.' She appeared from behind him.

'It's a very remarkable painting.'

'Of a very remarkable young man.'

He stood and turned to face her and was amazed that a woman of her age could look so incredibly attractive.

'I tried to make the funeral, but got held up and missed the church. I did manage some of the funeral, though.'

'I saw you.'

'I didn't know that.' He was lying, of course, and she knew it.

She turned to look at the painting again. 'My son was a deeply troubled man and a great deal of it was not his fault. I sometimes think I didn't really know him.'

'Oh, but I think you did,' Dillon told her.

'You think so? Justin once told me about my painting that I was not only good, but I was too good. That I didn't just go for appearance, I got what was inside. Would you agree?'

'Yes, I think so.'

'Of course if I did your portrait, I'd find a lot inside. You see, I know an awful lot about you: I've made it my business to find out. I just want to say I appreciate why you had to shoot my son in the Khufra. After all, he'd shot that wretched Colonel Hakim, so I don't really blame you.'

'That's very decent of you.'

'On the other hand, he was my son, so I can't possibly forgive you, either. So what's to be done?'

'I haven't the slightest idea,' Dillon said.

'Have you killed, I suppose. It's one of the advantages of being so incredibly rich – anything is possible.'

Dillon took a close look at her. She was serious. The woman he was looking at was not the same person she'd been in Kilmartin.

'I suppose it is,' Dillon said.

'So, you have much to look forward to.'

Dillon stood there for a moment, then glanced again at the portrait of Justin Talbot hanging on the wall.

'He was right,' Dillon said. 'You do get beneath the surface. But I just realized something.'

'What is that, Mr Dillon?'

'I thought it was Colonel Henry's mad eyes staring out at me from Justin's portrait. Now I realize they're yours.'

For the first time since he'd known her, that porcelain face cracked. 'I loved him, damn you, more than anything in this life.'

'Yes, I thought it was something like that. Well, ma'am: people have been trying to kill me in one way or another for years. I'm still here. But you're welcome to try.'

He walked away quickly, out into Bond Street. She hurried after him, furious, but when she reached the pavement crowded with people, he was already gone, vanished into thin air, as if he had never been.