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as happy or as at ease with a woman as he did with Eve. The week’s leave would come to an end and they would have to distance themselves from each other and there would be new assignments and dangers, but for the moment she was his and he was hers. Wanting to express something of this he pulled the car over under the spreading branches of an oak tree. Switched off the engine. Turned to her in the sudden silence. She held his gaze. Reached out and touched his cheek. And he knew that there was
coaxing his ten-year-old Saab down the drive for the last time. The barriers around the lodge, he noticed, had been removed. On impulse he stopped the car and peered in through one of the windows. The interior was deserted and the monitor screens were blank. There was no sign that two men had died violently here, or indeed that the place had ever been occupied. ‘Took ’em away in a van,’ came a quiet voice from behind him. ‘Big fellers, the both of them.’ It was the groundsman, Jimmy McCracken.
And he’d never been inside the M16 headquarters. He felt a crawl of curiosity. ‘No strings?’ She shook her head. ‘No strings whatsoever.’ Slater felt in his pocket for his keys. There was nothing revealing or incriminating at the flat. ‘I doubt I need to give you the address,’ he said drily. Eve and Andreas smiled. The M16 building towered over Albert Embankment and the Thames with a kind of colossal arrogance. Here we are, it said, in plain sight. Make of us what you will. For all its
cheek. For a moment she seemed to flinch at his tenderness, and then she gave a small laugh. ‘Well . . .’ she began brightly. ‘Madonna’s giving a party at Chinawhite. We could go to that. There might be some amusing people there.’ He hesitated. ‘With me going as what?’ he asked her. ‘Your bodyguard? Your lover?’ ‘What would you like to go as?’ she asked him, raising an exquisitely shaped eyebrow. ‘Well, I’d like to go as your boyfriend, but I’m risking my job if I’m seen. And I don’t expect
have seen the company in question relieved of 30 million francs’ worth of stock for an outlay of less than FF750,000. Although he had not been asked to do so, Leon also produced a detailed proposal for the selling-on of the stolen microprocessors. He was thanked for his efforts, and heard no more. A week later, however, he found himself on one of the prison’s coveted computer-training courses, and on completion of his sentence was passed the name of a personnel officer employed by the Paris