“I wouldn’t have thought so. But I have a speaking engagement in Scotland next week so if I pick up anything worthwhile I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Giles. But if you’re in Scotland, why don’t you just drive up to Fenwick Hall, bang on the front door and ask the earl for his vote?”

“Earls don’t have a vote.”

*   *   *

“Why haven’t I received this month’s payment?” demanded Virginia.

“Because I didn’t get mine,” said Trend. “When I called Cyrus’s lawyer he told me you wouldn’t be getting another red cent. Then he hung up on me.”

“Then let’s sue the bastard!” shrieked Virginia. “And if he doesn’t pay up, you can tell his lawyer that Freddie and I will take up residence in Baton Rouge, and we’ll see how they like that.”

“Before you book your flight, Ginny, I ought to tell you that I did call back and threaten them with every kind of legal proceedings. Their response was short and to the point. ‘Your client had better be able to prove that Cyrus T. Grant is Freddie’s father, and that she is even the boy’s mother.’”

“That will be simple enough to confirm. I have the birth certificate and am still in touch with the doctor who delivered Freddie.”

“I pointed all that out, but I couldn’t make head nor tail of their response. However, they assured me that you would understand all too well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They told me that Ellie May Grant has recently employed a new butler and housekeeper for her home in Louisiana, a Mr. and Mrs. Morton.”

*   *   *

Comrade Pengelly was ushered into Marshal Koshevoi’s massive oak-paneled office. The KGB chief didn’t stand to greet him, just gave a dismissive nod to indicate that he should sit.

Pengelly was understandably nervous. You are only summoned to KGB headquarters when you are about to be sacked or promoted, and he wasn’t sure which it was going to be.

“The reason I called for you, comrade commander,” said Koshevoi, looking like a bull about to charge, “is that we have discovered a traitor among your agents.”

“Julius Kramer?” asked Pengelly.

“No, Kramer was a smokescreen. He is completely reliable and totally committed to our cause. Although the British are still under the impression he’s working for them.”

“Then who?” said Pengelly, who thought he knew every one of his thirty-one agents.

“Karin Brandt.”

“But she’s been passing on some very useful information recently.”

“And we have now discovered the source of that information. It was a tip-off from a most unlikely quarter that gave her away.” Pengelly didn’t interrupt. “I instructed Agent Kramer to inform Brandt that we wanted you to report back to Moscow.”

“And she delivered that message.”

“But not before she had passed it on to someone else.”

“How can you be sure?”