She arrived outside the King’s Arms in Brewer Street, just before 7:30 p.m., and asked the taxi driver to wait for her, as she had no intention of hanging around any longer than necessary.

When she pulled open the door and stepped inside the noisy, smoke-filled room, she couldn’t miss him. A short, squat man who wasn’t even wearing a tie. He was standing at the end of the bar, incongruously clutching a Harrods bag. As she walked toward him, several pairs of eyes followed her progress. She wasn’t the usual kind of skirt who frequented their pub. Virginia came to a halt in front of the squat man and managed a smile. He returned the compliment, only proving that he hadn’t visited a dentist recently. Virginia felt she had not been put on earth to mix with hoi polloi, let alone the criminal classes, but another letter from her bank manager that morning had helped to convince her that she should carry out Mellor’s instructions.

Without a word, she removed the small brown package from her handbag and, as agreed, exchanged it for the Harrods bag. She then turned and left the pub without a word being spoken. She only began to relax when the taxi had rejoined the evening traffic.

Virginia didn’t look inside the bag until she had closed and double-locked the front door of her home in Onslow Gardens. She took out a larger package, which she left unopened. After a light supper, she retired to bed early, but didn’t sleep.

*   *   *

After the plane had taxied to a halt at Arlanda Airport, an emissary from the Royal Palace was waiting to greet them at the bottom of the steps, with a personal message from King Carl Gustaf of Sweden. His Majesty hoped that Mrs. Babakova and her husband would stay at the palace as his guests.

Harry, Emma and Mrs. Babakova were escorted to the airport’s Royal Lounge, where the reunion would take place. A television in the corner of the room was showing live coverage of the camera crews, journalists and photographers assembled on the tarmac waiting to greet the new Nobel Laureate.

Although several bottles of champagne were opened during the next hour, Harry limited himself to one glass, while Yelena, who couldn’t sit still, didn’t touch a drop. Harry explained to Emma that he wanted to be “stone cold sober” when Anatoly stepped off the plane. He checked his watch every few minutes. The long years of waiting were finally coming to an end.

Suddenly a cheer went up, and Harry looked out of the window to see an Aeroflot 707 approaching through the clouds. They all stood by the window to watch the plane as it landed and taxied to a halt in front of them.