chuckled. ‘I’m glad we can still have fun together, Felix. I never had to pretend about that.’
‘Then you’d better make the most of it while you still can.’
‘It’s a pity we never had a chance to get to know each other more intimately. I think we would have been good together. I don’t suppose you fancy a quick detour somewhere a little more private?’
He simply looked at her.
She laughed. ‘I was just joking. Well, half joking. Quick doesn’t work for me.’
‘You’re insane, Francesca.’
‘I prefer the term liberated.’
They reached the top of the second flight of stairs together. Victor took a series of breaths and swallowed heavily. The sound of music and chatter grew louder as they made their way down a short hallway. Ahead it opened out and dozens of mingling guests were visible.
‘Can you do this?’ Francesca asked.
‘You almost sound concerned for me.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself. I’m concerned about the job. This is worth a lot of money to me.’
He faced her. ‘You needn’t be concerned about getting paid. Everything is going to work out exactly as Hart and Leeson have planned it.’
She pursed her lips but didn’t respond.
The reception was held across three rooms on the west wing of the embassy’s first floor and centred in a grand music room. It was a huge, high-ceilinged space almost absent of furniture aside from a few low couches interspersed along the room’s exterior in between mirrors that rose five metres in height. The ceiling was plain except for the chandelier that hung from its centre. It was as wide as it was tall and dazzling to look at. The polished floor and the mirrors bounced back the chandelier’s light so that no other lighting was needed. Colourful arrangements of lilies, roses and orchids bloomed from vases that stood before the mirrors. A potted dragon tree stood in each corner, towering above the guests.
At one end of the room a string quartet performed Schubert’s Rosamunde. They were about halfway through the first movement: Allegro ma non troppo. At any other time Victor would have enjoyed the quartet’s seemingly effortless excellence, but he was here to blow himself up. The guests were too busy chatting to pay attention to the music. There were approximately one hundred men and women spread throughout the room, almost all dressed in black evening wear barring the occasional white dinner jacket. Serving staff made their way through the crowd carrying trays of champagne and canapés. The ambassador’s aide was doing a circuit, shaking hands with important guests, making quips and chuckling with equal measure at those of others.
There were no obvious security personnel but before he had stepped into the room Victor’s gaze was hunting them down. They were dressed like guests and blended well among them, but were notable because they never stayed in one place for long, made no attempt to engage guests in conversation and kept their hands free of food or drink. Within a minute Victor had counted five. All men, all between thirty and forty. And good. They weren’t just guards. They would be from within the Operations Department of Directorate S of the SVR. They were based at the embassy for the protection of the ambassador and his subordinates. Tonight they would be especially alert due to the presence of their organisation’s head. Each wore a subtle earpiece with a thin cable trailing down from his ear under the lapel of his dinner jacket. They would be armed too, with handguns at their waists, because their dinner jackets were buttoned as part of their cover, rendering an underarm holster inaccessible.
Prudnikov wasn’t in the music room. Neither was the ambassador. They were probably in the ambassador’s private quarters, smoking cigars and drinking cognac and telling risqué jokes to avoid the odious schmoozing required of them. When they appeared, they would no doubt be accompanied by more security.
‘What are you thinking?’ Francesca asked.
‘That I could use a drink.’
‘Me too.’ She gestured to a waiter. ‘But you can only have a few sips for show. Alcohol will greatly exacerbate the effects of the drug.’
‘Great,’ Victor said. ‘I’m going to blow myself up and I can’t even appreciate a glass of champagne first.’
‘You’re not here to enjoy yourself.’
‘But you are, aren’t you, Francesca? You were entertained by Jaeger dying in front of you. At the time I thought you were shocked, but I didn’t know you then. Now I know better. This is one big thrill to you, isn’t it?’
‘So what if it is? It’s not