someone who joined them. She kept looking for a moment, recognising from their clothes that Victor and Francesca were guests of the reception and curious that they should be leaving so early. Not ideal – when news of what had happened to the security personnel spread, the woman would remember this – but not a disaster because by heading down this side street Victor wasn’t giving away the rest of the route he intended to take.
As he walked closer he saw the problem. The woman tossed her cigarette away and turned in his direction. She was slim but toned. Her hair was tied back but when loose would be no longer than jaw length. The slit in the dress let him see her shoes: elegant but practical, with a small heel. The dim light coming through the embassy’s windows disguised much of her features but caught the thin cable running down the length of her neck and disappearing under her shawl.
Her weapon had been in a purse hanging from her left shoulder, and it was out before he could draw his own, because she’d identified him before he had her. She held it steady in a two-handed grip, aiming at his centre mass.
‘Put your hands against the wall.’
‘No.’
‘Do it or I’ll shoot.’
Victor shook his head and carried on walking towards her, leaving Francesca behind. ‘No you won’t. You’re not in the embassy compound. You’re on Italian soil now. Two metres to your right is Russia, but this ground right here is Italy. You’re not part of the diplomatic staff: you’re SVR. You have no diplomatic immunity. I am unarmed. You’re not at risk. If you shoot me your life is over.’
She stepped towards him. Her expression was aggressive. ‘Hands against the wall.’
He began unbuttoning his shirt as he approached her. She was three metres away. ‘I’m not going to put my hands against the wall.’
‘I’ll shoot.’
‘We’ve already established you won’t.’ Two metres. ‘Besides, if you do shoot me you’ll kill yourself as well.’ He opened up his shirt to show what lay beneath it.
He had no doubt she would know that plastic explosives would not be set off by a bullet’s impact, but that didn’t mean she could stop the surprise and panic she felt at seeing a suicide bomber vest so close before her.
Victor stepped forward fast while she was distracted. Using his left palm to knock the barrel of the gun to his right as his torso twisted out of the line of fire, he grabbed her wrist as he stepped left and wrenched the forearm down, making her double over, gun pointing at the floor, his one arm against her two but his weight and position defeating her off-balance strength. He used his free right hand to push up the gun barrel with the web between thumb and forefinger, stretching back her hands and weakening her grip before easily pulling the weapon away.
She realised she was disarmed an instant before the gun was in his possession and was using her left hand – the one not in his grip – to thumb her radio.
He hit her with a downward open-palmed blow to the jaw before she had a chance to speak or yell. Her head snapped back and she tipped backwards and dropped. He caught her on the way down to stop her head smacking against the hard ground and eased her into a prone position. He checked her pulse to be sure he hadn’t killed her with the strike, but her blood was pumping fast and hard beneath his fingertips.
‘We need to hurry,’ Victor said to Francesca as he reached down and tugged off her stilettos, one then the other.
‘Okay.’
She couldn’t run, but she could hustle. They hurried along the side street, passed cars parked tight against the wall to the left. He took her east down the first alley he came to. He didn’t know how many SVR operatives were stationed at the embassy, and how many of those were on duty tonight, but four currently down would heavily deplete the numbers available to respond when the alarm was raised, especially when the ambassador, embassy staff, guests and head of the SVR needed to be protected. They wouldn’t come charging out after him. They would make sure there was no threat – discreetly, to avoid ruining the ambassador’s reception – and let the Rome police hunt for him. By the time the first patrol car was in the area, Victor would be long gone. The