Seraphine waited for a businessman to pass her on the path. The man’s eyes scanned her from top to bottom without embarrassment. She held his gaze and then smiled as she pushed her loose hair behind one ear. The man smiled back and slowed a little. Seraphine turned her body away and resumed her conversation. ‘And how do you plan to make that happen?’ The businessman picked up his pace.

Abdul was quiet for a moment. ‘If he thinks we have her, he will come.’

‘And if he really doesn’t remember her?’

There was no reply.

Seraphine said, ‘I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Thank you, Ma’am.’ The deference was habit rather than true sentiment, but Seraphine liked it.

‘And what of your progress more generally?’

‘My observations on Antony Bello are of great interest to his uncle. Jacob Bello wants someone trustworthy, devout and reliable to succeed him and that is not his nephew.’

‘Now, Abdul, my dear friend. Who could you be possibly thinking he might choose to succeed him if young Mr Bello proves unworthy?’

53

Jameson left Harry and Karene talking in the kitchen. He walked through to the small bedroom at the back of the house where he had been sleeping, closed the door behind him and knelt by the bed as if to pray. Harry was insisting on meeting his children and that meant leaving their safe house.

He removed a black wooden box with a six-digit combination lock from beneath the bed. He hesitated then spun the numbers to a date forever burned into his memory: the date he first killed. Inside the box was an unused Sig Sauer P226. He had obtained a licence and purchased the gun a month after leaving MI6. The Sig was the same model as his old service weapon. It had lived in his loft, where his young nieces would never accidentally find it.

If Harry wanted to go out, Jameson needed to be armed.

He took the Sig out of the box and felt the weight of it. Then he loaded it and checked the decocking lever, ensuring the gun wouldn’t be accidentally fired, and placed it in the drawer of his bedside table. Freddie, the porter, had been firing a Sig Sauer. It had been old and well used. Whereas the other man had a brand-new, top-of-the-range Glock. Jameson thought about that – why would someone hire two assassins of such differing calibre? – then closed the drawer and rejoined Harry and Karene.

Harry sat at Jameson’s computer flicking through the photographs of the Devonport ball.

‘Is that you in green?’ Harry said to Karene.

‘Yes. That was just after I’d arrived. I was looking for you.’