The door opened. Out came a man in a white towelling bath robe. From his long, narrow face I knew instantly that this was Akula. His black hair was slicked down with water and his eyes were wide open with fright or surprise. His movements were quite slow and perfectly controlled.

He said something in Russian, or possibly in Chechnyan. I didn’t understand it and barked back, ‘Speak English, you bastard. I know you can.’

‘Who are you?’ he demanded.

‘Never mind that. I want to know where you’ve sent the bomb.’

‘The bomb? What bomb? I don’t understand.’

His right hand was moving up towards a pocket at waist height on the front of his robe.

‘Keep still!’ I shouted. ‘Hands up.’

He raised them reluctantly.

I went forward and jabbed the muzzle of the 203 into his breastbone so hard that he crashed down on his arse.

‘Get your hands above your head!’ I shouted.

He lay on his back, arms up, while I felt in the pockets of his robe. My fingers closed on a small pistol. I brought it out, glanced briefly at it, and saw that it was covered in gold engraving. I slipped it in my pocket and repeated my question, standing over him with the 203 pointing down at his chest.

‘Listen,’ I said. ‘I know who you are. You are Akula, the Shark. What have you done with the device?’

‘I tell you, I have no device.’

‘Don’t fucking lie to me!’ I shouted. ‘Or I’ll blow your bloody head off.’

That seemed to change his mind. ‘You are too late,’ he said. ‘The device is not here.’

‘I know. I’m asking where you’ve sent it.’

‘You are American, yes?’ There was a hint of mockery in his voice, of condescension.

‘It doesn’t matter what I am.’

‘Well – you should send message to British Government.’

‘Yes?’

‘Tell them, release the Chechen men they have arrested.’

‘What Chechen men?’

‘Twelve persons.’

‘What have they done?’

‘Nothing. But the police arrested them. Unless they are free, London will be sorry.’

‘What are you saying?’

‘Only that. London will regret.’

‘You mean you’ve sent the bomb to London?’

I was so hyped up by the thought that Orange was going to be used against us that, without any conscious decision, I fired a burst into the floor beside the Shark’s right leg, then another that hit him in the thigh. As the rounds struck, he gave a convulsive jerk, then began to writhe around on his side, blood flowing out fast over the birch floor.