Chapters (74)
- Title Page
- Prologue
- JULY 1961
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Chapter 61
- Chapter 62
- Chapter 63
- JULY 1962
- Chapter 64
- Chapter 65
- Chapter 66
- Preview: A Loyal Traitor
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
Just as Bennett was starting to wonder if it might be time to try some more direct surveillance, like pulling a couple of wires out of the Anglia’s engine and knocking on the safe house’s front door for help, a large black Jaguar sedan shot down the street. She assumed it was someone running late for work, until it pulled to a sudden stop outside the safe house.
A man in a grey suit got out of the rear door nearest the pavement and Bennett instinctively sank down into the well of her seat as he walked up the steps, unlocked the front door, and stepped inside.
A minute later he re-emerged with Valera by his side in a dark suit. Bennett sank even lower as Valera paused at the top of the steps and scanned the street. She couldn’t read the expression on her face—she didn’t look exactly happy about following the man down into the waiting car, but she didn’t look scared either.
Bennett let the sedan pull away, counted to ten, put the Anglia in gear, and started to follow them.
The Jaguar turned out of Methley Street and headed north. The driver had no idea who either of his passengers were. He’d been hired, along with the car, anonymously by Peterson and paid in cash. Peterson was always careful with the people who did his dirty work for him. He paid well, but never told them more than was absolutely necessary. And he never used the same person twice. The only time he’d broken this rule was when he’d sent the man who’d been guarding the Italians’ flat to Stockholm because he hadn’t had time to find anyone else to complete the strike team. But he’d ended up getting himself killed, so couldn’t betray Peterson even if he’d wanted to.
Valera sat across from Peterson in the back of the sedan. She tried her best to look relaxed, but her body was rigid and her suit itched.
Peterson had an open briefcase perched on his knees. He held a manila folder in one hand while the other kept a vice-like grip on the handle of the case.
‘We’ll be at the Richmond in twenty minutes,’ he said, without looking up from the documents he was studying. ‘We’ll get you settled in my suite for an hour, then we have two meetings this morning. After that, the car will take you back to the hotel, where you’ll have lunch in the suite. I have another engagement I have to attend, but I’ll be back around three in time for our afternoon appointments.’