Chapters (37)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- By Paul Cornell
- About the Author
He’d stolen it from Anna Lassiter’s house two days ago, before he and Ross had gone there together, when Quill had sent him back to the Soviet bar to talk about prostitutes. He had used several of Sefton’s protective items, taken from the man’s holdall, to get into Lassiter’s flat. He doubted he’d have been able to do it without what he was now sure had been Vincent’s men making their own attempt hours before.
He had done it because he couldn’t handle the idea of someone looking into his dreams. Because of how vulnerable that made him feel. He hadn’t previously decided what to do with it, although keeping it on him was some sort of decision. He’d had fantasies about staging a fake raid and triumphantly giving it to Ross.
Now he had made his mind up. He had sacrificed so much for this. He hoped it was worth it.
Costain replaced it in his pocket, took a deep breath, and drove off once more.
Chapter Twenty-Five
TWENTY-FIVE