into a crouch to scratch the cat between the ears. 'Hello, Nelson. You're looking handsome as ever.' Nelson purred, narrowing his eyes and watching Carol as if to say he could teach her a thing or two. Tony looked up. 'I flew down on the shuttle from Edinburgh this morning. I don't have any teaching commitments today, so I thought I'd take a chance on catching you at home.'
'An expensive chance/ Carol said. 'You could just have phoned, made sure I'd be home.'
Tony stood up. 'Sometimes I get fed up with being prosaic.'
Before she could stop herself, Carol said, 'And what does Frances think about that?' As soon as her words landed, they altered the landscape of his face. It was as if a physical shutter had closed down behind his eyes.
'What I do is no longer any concern of Frances,' he said. His tone of voice deflected discussion as effectively as armour plating.
Carol couldn't help a squirm of delight in her stomach. It couldn't be coincidence that Frances had been consigned to history so soon after her visit. Which meant... all sorts of things she couldn't begin to permit herself to consider. It should be enough that he was here now, with her; his choice, not her request. 'Come and sit down,' she said. 'Coffee, yes?'
'Oh, please. They can map the human genome, but they still can't make a decent cup of coffee on a plane.'
Chapter 7
'Make yourself at home,' Carol said, gesturing towards the twin sofas that sat at right angles, making the most of her view. 'I won't be a minute.' She headed for the kitchen.
Rather than settling down, Tony roamed the room. Much of the contents were familiar, but some were new. There were a couple of large Jack Vettriano prints from his film noir series in heavy distressed gilt frames that would have been totally out of place in the cottage where Carol had been living previously but which looked strong and moody on these high white walls. The CD collection had expanded to include a tranche of contemporary guitar bands whose names he recognized but whose music was completely alien to him. He'd never seen the brightly coloured gabbeh that dominated the centre of the room either.
But there was nothing that didn't chime with his understanding of Carol. She was still the person he knew. He stood at the window and gazed down at the old church, incongruous among the modernity of its surroundings. He wasn't sure he'd done the right thing, coming here like this. Sometimes, however, risks had to be taken. Otherwise, how would he know he was alive?
Carol's voice cut through his introspection. 'Coffee,' she said, placing a cafetiere and two mugs on the low glass table.
He turned to face her and smiled. 'Thanks.' He took off his jacket, revealing a black V-necked sweater in fine wool; a more fashionable look than he used to go for, Carol noted. They settled down with their drinks, each on a separate sofa, but close enough at the angle between them to have touched if they'd felt able to. 'So,' he said. 'Do you want to talk about it?'
Carol tucked her feet under her and cradled her mug in both hands. 'I'm dying to talk about it. They're sending me in deep. Total immersion undercover.'
'This is Europol?' he asked.
'Not exactly. It's a UK operation. To tell you the truth, the lines are a bit blurred. I'm not sure where Special Branch ends and Customs and Excise begins on this one. And I wouldn't be surprised if the intelligence services have got a finger in the pie too.' She gave a wry little smile. 'All I know for sure is that my own chain of command goes through Superintendent Morgan, who is attached to NCIS. And that's all I'm supposed to need to know.'
Tony was experienced enough as an interviewer of serial offenders not to let his unease show. But already he didn't like the sound of this. In his limited experience of British policing, grey areas always heralded deniability. If the time came when someone had to be shot down in flames, the only person visible in the sights would be Carol. That she wasn't admitting this even to herself was worrying. 'What's the j assignment?' ,
Carol relayed everything Morgan had told her about f Tadeusz Radecki. 'Morgan said that when he saw my Europol application, he couldn't believe his eyes,' she continued. 'Katerina was dead, but here was her double, applying to work