‘Subject is on her way to work. Left home at oh-seven hundred hours. Team are mobile and maintaining observation.’

‘The time has come to make our move,’ ‘Saunders’ told him. ‘At the first available opportunity, I need them to take her.’

Turnbull didn’t sound fazed by the order. ‘Take her, as in take her out?’

‘No, I’m calling a change of plan. They’re to take her alive and move her to a secure place, pending further instructions.’

‘Okay, copy that. Texting the team leader now.’

‘Saunders’ knew that making their presence known to Grace Kirk in this way was turning her into a potential witness against them. It didn’t matter to him, though, because he’d never intended for her to live. Nor Hope. If there was one thing ‘Saunders’ had learned during the course of his long career, it was that you could kill anyone you liked. It was just a question of exerting the requisite amount of power. And he had command of all the power anyone could wish for. His initial nervousness was fast subsiding. He could feel the drumbeat of war throbbing in his veins. If Hope thought he could pull the wool over his eyes, he would soon have to think again.

Turnbull asked matter-of-factly, ‘What about the other item on the agenda? We’re scheduled for 11.45 a.m. today. Our assets are in place and awaiting your green light.’

Turnbull was talking about the delayed Abbott operation. In the wake of the Wolf fiasco it had taken them this long to get reorganised. Even the secret rulers of the world had their logistics problems to contend with. But, better late than never.

‘Saunders’ replied, coolly and calmly, ‘Tell them they may proceed as planned. The sooner we’re rid of that idiot, the better.’

Chapter 29

Ben and Wolf had spent the remainder of the night cutting up through France, as fast and straight as a weapon laser guidance system locked onto its target. Reaching the tunnel terminal at Calais they passed through customs without a hitch, rolled the Alpina onto the train and half an hour later re-emerged on British soil.

Ben was still travelling as Paul Harris, but Wolf had taken the extra precaution of switching to his secondary fake ID, Douglas Baker, for the return trip into the UK. Back on the road, they now faced a two-hour drive westwards along the coast to the village near Brighton where Anthony Abbott lived. Ben estimated that they would reach Pyecombe shortly after midday.

Wolf asked, ‘Are you sure this is the smart play, Ben? What if we get there and he’s already dead?’

‘I’ll worry about that if it happens,’ Ben said.