“My Enya CDs.”

“One slap, on its way.”

We both laughed. I took her in my arms and held her close. She nuzzled her face into my shoulder and rubbed my back with her hands. I bent my head over hers and breathed deeply the perfume from her hair. I felt . . . like I could have stayed there forever. But I had things to do.

“My world used to be so simple,” I said. “I knew who I was, and what I was, and what I was supposed to do with my life.”

“No,” said Molly, not raising her head from my shoulder. “You only thought you did. Welcome to the real world, Eddie. Hateful place, isn’t it?”

“No,” I said. “It has you in it.”

We left the flat and made our way down into the enclosed courtyard below, and then stopped as we realised the wrought-iron gates were standing wide open. I looked out into the street, and a whole army of heavily armed and armoured men looked right back at me. Molly moved in close beside me. Two black attack helicopters filled the early morning with their clamour as they manoeuvred into position overhead. I lifted my head and squared my shoulders. First rule of a field agent; never show fear. I sauntered over to the open gates for a better look.

There had to be at least fifty armed men, anonymous in body armour and dark-visored helmets, every one of them pointing their oversized guns right at me. Automatic weapons, too; top of the line. They weren’t taking any chances. I looked up and down the street. They’d blocked off both ends with armoured vehicles. Frightened faces peered out from closed windows, up and down the street. You didn’t expect scenes like this in civilised Knightsbridge.

One armoured figure moved forward to face me, still careful to maintain a safe distance. He pushed his visor up just enough to get an electric bullhorn under it.

“Edwin Drood, Molly Metcalf; you are ordered to surrender yourselves. Failure to do so will be met with all necessary force.”

I looked at Molly. “So, how do you want to play this?”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh, the usual, I think. Extreme violence and unpleasantness, visited upon one and all, suddenly and horribly and all over the place.”

“My kind of woman,” I said.

“Surrender or die!” said the spokesman through his bullhorn.

“Do you mind?” I said witheringly. “We’re talking, here. We’ll get to you in a moment.” I turned back to Molly. “I’m a bit reluctant to go head-to-head with them here. Right out in the open, surrounded by innocent bystanders.”

Molly shrugged. “They chose the setting. We could make a run for the Bentley, I suppose, and shortcut our way out of this . . . but I don’t do the running thing.”

“Same here,” I said. “It does so tend to give the wrong impression. These scumbags need to be reminded of what it means to challenge a Drood.”