'Yes. I know all this.'

'Good. Let me be blunt then. A group of Russian exiles have engaged the services of Mr Drennan to effect an atrocity against Russia in France.'

This statement was greeted with silence, as the Count stared at me, the atmosphere suddenly dark and serious.

'And you know this how, might I ask?'

A difficult question to answer, as I didn't know; in fact it was a tissue of lies from beginning to end.

'Russia is not the only country which keeps an eye on these people,' I said airily. 'And I have been keeping an eye on Mr Drennan. That was for my own protection as he resents my existence considerably, and I did not wish to become his next victim myself.'

'And this atrocity . . . ?'

'I am afraid, sir, that I must interrupt here, and rather ruin my reputation. I must exchange this information, not give it.'

His handsome countenance darkened.

'Don't concern yourself,' I said gently. 'Even if you are not able to oblige me, I will still tell you all you need to know to prevent a catastrophe. But I would like your word that you will assist me, if you can do so. I desire no more than that.'

His eyes narrowed as he considered this offer, and I could see that he was calculating possibilities. He was not, I thought, quite so direct and straightforward as his manner suggested.

'Very well,' he said. 'Why don't you tell me what you want, then we will see if we can do business. Please bear in mind that I have noticed you have given me no proof whatsoever of what you say.'

'That will come. I hardly expect you to act on the unsubstantiated word of a total stranger. Very well, then. You have heard, I imagine, of Barings Bank?'

He looked totally astonished at the sudden change of direction, but nodded.

'In a few days' time, Barings is going to get into considerable difficulties. It has to make a payment and does not have the funds to do so. It will, as happens in these circumstances, apply to the Bank of England for assistance. News of the problems will seep out, and many people will wish to convert their funds into something more substantial than paper. Other houses will also want gold from the Bank of England's vaults.'

He nodded, but cautiously. It was clear he only just understood what I was talking about. 'The Bank does not have enough. One does not have to be an expert to understand the difficulties that arise when a bank does not have enough money to meet its obligations.'

'I do not see . . .'

'In the past month the Russian state bank has withdrawn substantial amounts of the gold it habitually holds in London for safe-keeping. It has withdrawn money from the Bank of England, and also from Barings itself. All for perfectly good reasons, I am sure, but if it were able to announce it was reversing this policy, then the problem would be significantly lessened. That is all I require.'

I had lost him, I could see. He was a man of diplomatic balls and negotiations between grand men. He understood not one thing about how Empires are really made, or how countries satisfy the needs and desires of their people. It had never occurred to him to wonder how the food on his plate got there, how it was grown, harvested, moved from place to place and merchant to merchant along the great paths of invisible money that encircle the globe, tying every man and every town to each other so efficiently that most people did not even suspect they were there. He took it for granted. And we never value what we never think about.

'You want Russia to move gold . . .'

I suppressed a groan. 'No, Excellency. There is no need to move it. Simply saying that you will not move it will be more than sufficient. Belief is as good as reality, where money is concerned.'

He frowned. 'As you see, Mr Cort, I know little of these things. Nor do I care about them much. An oversight on my part, no doubt. But it means that I have no idea whatsoever whether you are asking me a small favour or a gigantic one. We wish to make an exchange, but that depends on a fair price for each side. I do not know the value of what you are asking.'

'Then I suggest you consult one of your people in the Embassy who does know, Excellency,' I said. 'But I would request that you do so swiftly. Time is of the greatest importance here.'

He surprised me then. He was not at all the sort of person I had imagined. He stood immediately and called for a servant. 'Prepare my clothes. I must go to the Embassy immediately. And send messengers to . . .' here he reeled off a list of Russian names – 'and tell them to meet me there within the hour.'

He turned back to me, and smiled. 'I will meet my people, and attempt to understand what this is about,' he said. 'I may need to get hold of you, so if you would leave your address . . . ?'

I nodded.

'And I will hold you to your word, Mr Cort. I must have that information, whether I can assist you or no.'

'You will have that, and willingly,' I said. 'All I know at the moment is that Drennan is probably living on the Ile Saint-Louis, and that the plot involves an attack against the Russian cathedral some time next week. Please place guards around it. Twenty-four hours a day.' I gave Drennan's description. 'He is not a member of the Orthodox Church, cares nothing for Eastern music and has no opinion whatsoever of modern ecclesiastical architecture. If he goes there at all, it will not be for the state of his soul.'

'Then you have given me a great deal to do,' he said. 'Diplomats must dress properly, and that takes an extraordinary amount of time.'

It was a dismissal, so I thanked him, left the room and headed back home.

I had made progress, or so I thought. That is, I had contacted two powerful people in the Russian and the French camps and opened communication. The next stage was to discover their price, if indeed they were prepared to sell. I realised, however, that I had little enough to offer in exchange.

And if the price was too high? What would happen then? I paused at a café in the rue du Faubourg St-Honoré and ordered an omelette and a glass of red wine; I had not eaten since morning and I was desperately hungry. I might as well eat and think at the same time.

Britain would be desperately weakened, of course; trade all over the world would shrink; factories would close, ships be laid up. People would lose their jobs. The Government's revenue and its ability to pay for the Royal Navy, would fall. The colonies would then be exposed and vulnerable – India, South Africa, the Far East – and the French and Russians would move to drive home their advantage. What could we do? Except go cap in hand to the Germans, asking them to name their price. They would, no doubt, want a free hand in Eastern Africa for a start, maybe much more than that. And would they even want to assist, sandwiched as they were between Russia to the east and France to the west?

All this for a few tons of metal. And I had made things even more complicated by introducing the business of an attempted atrocity, which I would now have to plan. What on earth was I thinking of? It was going to make my life very much more difficult. Still, I could worry about that when it was all over. Waiting and watching, not doing anything unless it is necessary; these have always been my main characteristics in the business of intelligence. It was what distinguished me from others, like Drennan, who no doubt would have blown something up first of all, as a way of catching people's attention.

And then I smiled, and ordered another glass of red wine and called for paper and an envelope.

'Dear Drennan,' I wrote

I have been engaged by a mutual friend to act in the

matter of a work of fiction which you may know about.

I think we must talk over the issue, and swiftly. A

neutral place of meeting would be suitable. I will be at