‘Most likely they’ve loaded Orange into a plane. That would mask the transmission. Yep. It’s gone dead. I’ll come back if we get it again.’

‘Thanks, Tony.’

I found Sasha glued to the other phone, talking hard, as if he was having to galvanise the police into action against their inclination. I left him at it, returned to the mess room and called Hereford again.

‘Boss,’ I said. ‘It looks like they’re being taken south.’

He already knew that the moving signal had given out at Vnukovo, and had come to the same conclusion.

‘What destinations does that place serve?’

‘Rostov-on-Don, Sochi, other Black Sea resorts.’ I reeled off names that Sasha had told me, and added, ‘Word here is that the villains could be Chechens.’

‘Who says that?’

‘I don’t know . . .’ I hesitated, suddenly aware that I was on the point of dropping myself in the shit by revealing our participation in the bust on the flat. ‘The idea came from Sasha, our main contact here.’

‘Chechnya!’ went the CO. ‘Bloody hell. If that’s where they’re heading, we’d better scrub Berlin and start looking for jumping-off points further south.’

Sasha reappeared, scratching his head.

‘Private jet has just made take-off from Vnukovo,’ he said. ‘Unofficial departure. No clearance from tower – no lights, nothing. This can only be Mafia.’

‘Can the air force track it?’

He raised both hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘I have passed message. But you know, little co-operation between police and armed forces . . .’

‘These criminals,’ I said. ‘D’you think they’re Chechens? Is this a reprisal for our raid on the apartment?’

He nodded vigorously. ‘I think so. Yes. These Chechens will demand big money for ransom.’

‘When would you expect them to start?’

‘Tomorrow morning.’ He looked at his watch. ‘This morning – later.’

‘Sasha,’ I said. ‘I’m afraid a couple of guys got killed in the contact on the highway.’

‘Only Mafia!’ he said, as if they’d been rabbits. ‘No problem.’

I saw him yawn and said, ‘Listen – you’ve been great. Thanks for coming in.’

‘It is nothing. Zheordie, I am sorry.’

‘Don’t start all that again. It’s not your fault. Off you go now.’

I ushered him out in a friendly way, and said to the lads, ‘Better get your heads down. There’s nothing to be done for the time being.’

‘You too, Geordie,’ said Whinger. ‘You look knackered.’

‘I feel it. What I’m going to do is bring a bed in here, in case Tony comes back on the blower.’

Two of us dragged my bed into the room. I took off my boots, but stretched out otherwise fully dressed. Gradually the place quietened down, but I couldn’t sleep. Would the kidnappers try to use the bomb themselves? Would they have the technical capability to detonate it?