“GCHQ picked up a burst of high-priority message traffic not long after he returned, all heavily encrypted with stuff they haven’t been able to unbutton.”

“And you find the timing suspicious?”

“To say the least.” Miles Kent was silent for a moment. “I have a bad feeling about this, Amanda.”

“I can’t do anything with bad feelings, Miles. I need actionable intelligence.”

“It was the same bad feeling I had before that bomb exploded on Brompton Road.”

Amanda closed her briefcase and retook her seat. “What do you propose?”

“I’m worried about the train ride.”

“I thought you said he didn’t make contact with anyone.”

“There was no physical contact or communication, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’d like authorization to run down every person who was on that carriage with him.”

“We can’t possibly spare the resources, Miles. Not now.”

“What if we don’t have a choice?”

Amanda made a show of thought. “Done,” she said. “But D4 will have to shoulder the burden. I won’t have you drawing assets from any of the other branches.”

“Agreed.”

“What else?”

“It might be a good idea for you to have a word with our friends across the river,” said Kent, nodding toward the white facade of Vauxhall Cross. “We don’t want to be blindsided again.”

Kent rose to his feet and withdrew. Alone, Amanda picked up her phone and speed-dialed her husband’s mobile, but there was no answer. She left a brief message saying she was going to be delayed and killed the connection. Then she picked up the receiver of a phone connected directly to Vauxhall Cross.

“I know it’s only Thursday, but I wonder if I might tempt you with a drink.”

“Hemlock?” asked Graham Seymour.

“Gin,” said Amanda.

“My place or yours?”

54

LORD STREET, FLEETWOOD

QUINN AND KATERINA LEFT the Internet café on Lord Street and started back to their hotel. Quinn moved calmly past the storefronts, but Katerina was jumpy and on edge. Her eyes moved restlessly about the street, and once, when a pair of teenage boys overtook them, she gouged her nails painfully into Quinn’s bicep.

“Something bothering you?” asked Quinn.

“Two things, actually. Gabriel Allon and Christopher Keller.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “That was a very expensive text message you sent to Allon. Alexei will never pay you now.”

“Unless I fulfill the terms of the contract.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“By killing Allon and Keller, of course.”

Katerina’s lighter flared. “You only get one shot at men like that,” she said, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the cold night air. “You’ll never be able to find them again.”

“I don’t have to find them.”

“Then how do you intend to kill them?”

“By bringing them to me.”

“With what?”

“The last target,” said Quinn.