‘Then why are you here?’ Nina wasn’t smiling now. ‘I’m not going to sell myself to you,’ Kate went on. ‘I’m in a corner. You have Stuart. You’re not going to release him. You know that, so do I. I therefore have a choice. My family or my country. And I’m prepared to bet your psychological profilers are clear which way I’ll jump on that one.’

‘Actually, they say you would believe you are smart enough to preserve your loyalty to both.’

Kate’s respect for the work of Moscow Centre crept up a notch, but it didn’t help her here. ‘You won’t release Stuart, so my choice is limited.’

‘But is he what you want?’ Nina wondered. ‘You don’t strike me as the kind of woman who would bet her house a second time on a proven adulterer.’

‘He’s the father of my children.’

‘And that’s enough? For you, I have my doubts.’

‘I’m here because you said you wanted me to come and work for you. Well, now you know what I want and need. We’re closing in on Dante in London and I’m not operating alone. Much longer and there will be no turning back. So we have a few days at best to make a decision.’

‘What evidence do you have?’

‘I can’t and won’t tell you that. Not yet.’ Kate stood. She didn’t want to give this woman any more. ‘It was good to meet you,’ she said, as she walked away. She didn’t look back.

Kate was lost in thought as she approached her hotel on the fringes of the Old Town. How would the men of Moscow Centre respond to the news that she was closing in on Agent Dante?

A few seconds later Kate got her answer when a black Mercedes screeched to a halt beside her. A man hit her from behind and she felt herself propelled towards the opening rear door. She let out half a cry before the assailant had a hand over her mouth. She bit his fingers savagely, twisted, so that she just avoided his attempt to force her directly into the back, the edge of the door smashing into her spine.

Another man was racing around the car. She thrust with the heel of her palm towards the assailant’s chin, but he parried. He grabbed her hair again and smashed her head on to the roof of the car.

She felt her vision blur and her knees weaken. The second man kicked her legs from beneath her. Her head was almost in the car. She heard a howl of rage somewhere close. ‘Bastards!’

One of the men swore in Russian as he was clattered from behind and fell clumsily on top of her. Through the pain of blurred vision, Kate caught sight of Callum, his long arms twirling. He retreated before the men could fell him, ran on to the bonnet with two great strides and smashed the windscreen with a well-placed kick.

Now it was the turn of the driver to swear in Russian. Callum jumped to the cobbles on the other side of the car, yelling his head off in Czech.