“Come, now. It’s time for you to meet some very important people.” In short order, Roger was introduced to the station chief for Russian intelligence, the Russian naval attaché, and the Russian ambassador to the United Kingdom and their wives. At dinner they were all at the same table, being serenaded by a small string orchestra, along with a zither, followed by a pas de deux by ballet dancers from the Kirov company, in St. Petersburg.

Much vodka was consumed, and some of the diners were moved to sing along with the orchestra. Several were inspired by the dancers to engage in athletic Russian choreography, with much clapping from their audience.

It was after midnight before Roger and Jennifer could make their way to their car and return to the flat.

—

Stone and Holly were returning from dinner at Harry’s Bar, when his phone rang. “Hello?”

“Scramble,” Lance said.

“Scrambled.”

“Have a seat and make yourselves comfortable. I want to show you something.”

They did so, and an image appeared on the iPhone screen of a large room with tables and diners and a string orchestra.

“Do you see him?” Lance asked.

“See who?”

“Brigadier Fife-Simpson. Wait, I’ll zoom in on his table.

“Got him,” Stone said, “and that’s his girlfriend, too. Where is this happening?”

“At the Russian embassy in London. All the participants are Russian intelligence, and the brigadier and his lady are at a table with the local station chief, the naval attaché, and the ambassador. This is very significant. It indicates that they place a high value on Roger, probably higher than he understands. Just a minute.” Lance backed up the video a few minutes until Roger and Jennifer were speaking to a man who took something from his pocket and handed it to Roger. At the appropriate moment, Lance froze the images and zeroed in on the object. “That,” he said, “is a Russian diplomatic passport with Roger’s photograph in it and the name ‘Sergei Ivanovich Ostrovsky.’ The Russians don’t hand out those as party favors, so our boy is now, as our Southern friends might say, ‘in high cotton.’”

“How on earth did you get these pictures?” Stone asked.

“The embassy underwent some renovations last year, and that gave us the opportunity to install the necessary state-of-the-art equipment. Astonishing quality, isn’t it?”

“It certainly is.”

“By the way, while you two were dining at Harry’s Bar, two men in head-to-toe black duds and hoods visited your suite and discreetly ransacked it. I expect they were traveling in the Sprinter that tailed you to London earlier today. They would probably have installed audio and video equipment, but we dispatched a maid to the room with fresh towels, to rout them, so you may feel secure now.”

“Thank you very much, Lance,” Holly said. “Now you may switch off your own surveillance equipment so that we can have some privacy.”