‘But, if Finney and Manning are both working for the KGB, then why circulate Valera’s photo in the first place?’ Knox asked. ‘Why not bury it as soon as it came in?’

Bennett had thought about that too while she sat in Hyde Park.

‘Anything that’s held back has to be accounted for, eventually. They weren’t expecting anyone to be looking for Valera, or even recognise her. It was low-level intelligence. Better to let it sit in plain sight and then quietly remove it. Then, once Valera’s been put on a plane, or a sub, or buried in a shallow grave somewhere, they can just slip it back into the files.’

That, unfortunately, sounded entirely plausible to Knox. He felt along the edge of the bruise across his face, and along the line of his brow. He winced when his finger touched the gash and broke the thin scab that had started to form across it.

He had one last question for Bennett. ‘What about Medev? Why kill a KGB directorate chief if that’s who you’re supposed to be working for?’

‘I can’t decide between two answers for that one,’ Bennett replied.

‘Which are?’

‘First, they didn’t know he was in play.’

‘They didn’t know one of the KGB’s highest-ranking officers was involved?’

‘I’m serious. How much does MI5 do that MI6 has no idea about? Getting the CIA and the FBI to cooperate on anything takes months of negotiation. The KGB is huge. Maybe there were two operations running at once.’

‘And second?’

‘He was a target too. Part of an internal KGB power struggle.’

Somehow Knox liked that idea even less than the notion that both Manning and Finney had been turned.

He pulled himself up off his bed and walked over to his wardrobe. He opened it, relieved to see both his clothes and the crate from Bianchi and Moretti’s were still inside and in decent condition.

‘What are you doing?’ Bennett asked.

‘I’m getting changed,’ he replied. ‘And then we’re going to Leconfield House to have it out with Manning once and for all, before he can do any more damage.’

‘That’s great,’ Bennett said. ‘But Manning isn’t at Leconfield House.’

‘What?’ Knox asked as he gave up trying to remove the duct tape from the front of his shirt and just pulled it over his head. He dropped the ruined shirt on the floor and took a clean one off a hanger.

‘He’ll be at the diplomatic reception in Portland Place. Along with Finney.’

Knox thought about Manning lapping up the attention of the great and powerful in Holland’s place, all the while knowing he was about to preside over an intelligence disaster that Britain might never recover from.

‘Well, then,’ he said, ‘we’ll just have to crash his party.’

Chapter 51

Chapter 51