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Chapters (64)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgments
  5. Family Tree
  6. Epigraph
  7. Prologue
  8. I. Harry and Emma 1964–1965
  9. Chapter 1
  10. Chapter 2
  11. Chapter 3
  12. Chapter 4
  13. Chapter 5
  14. Chapter 6
  15. Chapter 7
  16. Chapter 8
  17. Chapter 9
  18. Chapter 10
  19. Chapter 11
  20. Chapter 12
  21. Chapter 13
  22. Chapter 14
  23. II. Lady Virginia Fenwick 1966
  24. Chapter 15
  25. Chapter 16
  26. III. Giles Barrington 1970
  27. Chapter 17
  28. Chapter 18
  29. Chapter 19
  30. Chapter 20
  31. Chapter 21
  32. Chapter 22
  33. Chapter 23
  34. IV. Sebastian Clifton 1970
  35. Chapter 24
  36. Chapter 25
  37. Chapter 26
  38. Chapter 27
  39. V. Lady Virginia Fenwick 1970
  40. Chapter 28
  41. Chapter 29
  42. Chapter 30
  43. Chapter 31
  44. Chapter 32
  45. VI. Sebastian Clifton 1970
  46. Chapter 33
  47. Chapter 34
  48. Chapter 35
  49. Chapter 36
  50. VII. Harry and Emma 1970
  51. Chapter 37
  52. Chapter 38
  53. Chapter 39
  54. Chapter 40
  55. Chapter 41
  56. Chapter 42
  57. Chapter 43
  58. Chapter 44
  59. Chapter 45
  60. Chapter 46
  61. Chapter 47
  62. About the Author
  63. Also by Jeffrey Archer
  64. Newsletter Sign-up

They grabbed Babakov and, as they dragged him out of the cell, Harry bowed his head as if he wanted nothing to do with the man. A moment later two more guards appeared, walking at a more leisurely pace. Although they took Harry firmly by the arms, they didn’t jostle, push, or drag him out of the cell, which made him wonder if it was just possible that Babakov’s plan had worked. However, the guards didn’t let go of Harry as they led him up the stairs, along the corridor, and into the courtroom, as if they feared he might try to make a run for it. But where would he run, and just how far did they imagine he would get?

Harry had insisted that Babakov sleep on the one thin mattress in their cramped cell, but the Russian had refused, explaining that he couldn’t afford to get used to such luxury when he would be returning to a stone floor in Siberia on Tuesday night. Sleeping on the straw that was liberally scattered over the floor was quite enough luxury for one weekend. The truth was, neither of them had slept for any length of time, which brought back memories for Harry of his days behind enemy lines. By the time the guards came to collect them on the Tuesday morning, they were both mentally and physically exhausted, having used every available hour for the challenge they had set themselves.

When the two guards accompanied Harry into the court, he was surprised to find the chief prosecutor and the jury already in their places. He hardly had time to catch his breath before the door at the back of the room opened and the three judges entered and returned to their seats on the raised dais.

Once again, the tribunal chairman didn’t even glance in Harry’s direction, but immediately turned to the jury. She opened a file in front of her and began what Harry assumed was her summing up. She only spoke for a few minutes, rarely raising her head from the text. Harry could only wonder who had written it, and when.

“Comrades, you have heard all the evidence, and have had more than enough time to consider your verdict. Can there be any doubt that the prisoner is guilty of the crimes he has been charged with, and that he deserves to be sentenced to a long term of imprisonment? The jury will be interested to learn that this will not be the prisoner’s first experience of jail. He has already served a sentence for murder in the United States, but do not let that influence you, because it is you, and you alone, who must decide if he is guilty.”

Harry had to admire the fact that the other two judges were able to keep a straight face while she continued to read out the prepared statement.