“Yes, Anatoly had seen what was coming. A few weeks before publication, he sent me to my mother’s in Leningrad and gave me every ruble he had saved, and a proof copy of the book. I managed to get across the border into Poland, but not until I’d bribed a guard with most of Anatoly’s life savings. I arrived in America without a penny.”

“And the book, did you bring it with you?”

“No, I couldn’t risk that. If I’d been caught and it had been confiscated, Anatoly’s whole life would have served no purpose. I left it somewhere they will never find it.”

*   *   *

The three men who had been waiting for her all rose as Lady Virginia entered the room. At last the meeting could begin.

Desmond Mellor sat opposite her, wearing a brown-checked suit that would have been more in place at a greyhound track. On his left was Major Fisher, dressed in his obligatory dark blue pinstriped double-breasted suit, no longer off-the-peg; after all, he was now a Member of Parliament. Opposite him sat the man who was responsible for bringing the four of them together.

“I called this meeting at short notice,” said Adrian Sloane, “because something has arisen that could well disrupt our long-term plan.” None of them interrupted him. “Last Friday afternoon, just before Sebastian Clifton traveled to New York on the Buckingham, he purchased another twenty-five thousand of the bank’s shares, taking his overall position to just over five percent. As I warned you some time ago, anyone in possession of six percent of the company’s stock is automatically entitled to a place on the board, and if that were to happen, it wouldn’t be long before he discovered what we’ve been planning for the past six months.”

“How much time do you think we’ve got?” asked Lady Virginia.

“Could be a day, a month, a year, who knows?” said Sloane. “All we do know for certain is that only needs another one percent to claim a place on the board, so we should assume sooner rather than later.”

“How close are we to getting our hands on the old lady’s shares?” inquired the major. “That would solve all our problems.”

“I have an appointment to see her son Arnold next Tuesday,” said Des Mellor. “Officially to seek his advice on a legal matter, but I won’t tell him my real purpose until he’s signed a nondisclosure agreement.”

“Why aren’t you making him the offer?” Virginia asked, turning to Sloane. “After all, you’re the chairman of the bank.”

“He’d never agree to do business with me,” said Sloane, “not after I got Mrs. Hardcastle to waive her voting rights on the day of her husband’s funeral. But he hasn’t come across Desmond before.”