‘By the time they knew what was happening it was too late. There were several planes airborne over the Caucasus. Any of them could have been the one they wanted. The most likely candidate was a privately owned Gulfstream that went to Malta, which is one of the Mafia’s overseas strongholds. We think the device may have been transferred to another aircraft there.’

‘What about at this end?’

‘We’ve got a watch on all major airports. The difficulty is, a small jet could put down in dozens of different places – on a private strip, anywhere.’

‘So you think the bomb may be here already?’

‘We’ve got to assume that.’

‘And you can’t search the whole of London.’

The man next to me made a wry grimace. Once more I thought of the guys in furry caps, carrying the components out through the snow.

‘I should have whacked them while I had the chance,’ I said.

‘What’s that?’ The man in front twisted himself yet farther round, and I had to explain all over again.

Then I asked, ‘But do they know how to detonate the damned thing? Can the device be set off without the SCR?’

‘Probably, yes. The Americans say it could be, if somebody’s had the right training.’

‘Bloody hell!’

‘Exactly.’

‘This Shark – he didn’t give any other clue?’

‘He never had a chance. He might have, but Sasha rushed in and dropped him.’

I described how the naked woman had come storming out of the changing cubicle, and how Sasha had drilled her through the back. My companions seemed quite unmoved by the saga: their only reaction was that the front-seat guy opened a briefcase and switched on the interior light to show me some mug shots.

‘These are what we got off the disk from Moscow,’ he told me. ‘Allegedly the Chechen Mafia’s first eleven.’

‘Well,’ I said. ‘That’s Shark, for a start.’ The long face, hollow cheeks and heavy eyebrow were unmistakable.

‘That was Shark,’ I corrected. ‘You can eliminate him from your inquiries.’

‘What about this one?’

He showed me a photo of an even more cadaverous-looking man, but younger. ‘That’s the brother, Supyan Gaidar. He calls himself Barrakuda. Anna showed me that photo in Balashika.’

‘What about this one?’

The third villain bore a strong resemblance to Sasha, but his face was broader and shorter. I shook my head.

‘Any of these guys could have been in the villa,’ I said. ‘If they were, I doubt if they came out alive. The only one I saw was Shark.’

‘But this one,’ my neighbour persisted. ‘You’re sure about him?’

‘Definitely Barrakuda. He’s pretty much like his elder brother.’

‘We believe he’s in the UK by now,’ said the man in front. ‘He was last heard of heading for London.’