Tokorev didn’t want to defect, but he wondered if helping Starikov hold on to his faith had drained him of his. He felt tired, sick of the secret motives and unexplained commands he’d put up with for so long. He’d done everything that had been asked of him for decades, and he knew the only thing waiting for him back at Murmansk would be more orders. He also knew that if he announced that he wanted to retire the response from his superiors would be a swift no. He belonged to the navy and it would never let him go. Even if he was removed from active sea duty there would always be training to be given, lessons to be taught, and ceremonies to attend—all to help further the Soviet Union’s global ambitions. And, on top of that, there would be the constant, quiet questioning about why, after so many years, he no longer wanted to serve the Motherland so devoutly.

His thoughts were disconcerting, disorienting. He felt uneven, like he’d lost his balance after years on sea legs. He forced himself to turn away from the coast and look out towards the Channel before something compelled him to disappear while he was alone and had the chance.

He told himself to follow Starikov back into the submarine, let his fantasy float away, and do his best to prepare for whatever was about to happen.

Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Knox and Bennett burst out onto Bow Street as rapturous applause filled every cubic foot of the Royal Opera House. Card Game had finished, and Nureyev’s ovations were beginning. Thirty seconds later, they were in Knox’s Jaguar, heading north to Shaftesbury Avenue, then west, weaving through the traffic and jumping the red lights of Piccadilly Circus.

When they reached Leconfield House, Knox pulled into the underground car park and swung to an abrupt stop in his usual space. He noticed, grimly, that Holland’s Bentley wasn’t in the next bay.

In the director general’s office they found Laing, propped up on the sofa holding a blood-stained bandage to his forehead, as White swept a smashed glass off the coffee table into a bin.

‘What happened at the opera house?’ Laing asked Knox.

‘Not what we were expecting,’ Knox replied as he looked round the room, in case he’d just missed Holland and Williams standing in a corner.

He told Laing and White about their hunt, finding the woman, and then losing her. Bennett handed the double-tube laser to White and showed him how to fire it, lighting up the centre of Holland’s painting of the castle with a bright red glow.