to the kitchen, picked up the bottle of champagne, and went out.
“I’m with a friend, but you can speak now. How did it go?”
“They went for it completely. And listen to this: we’ve already had a stroke of luck. It seems that Ferguson’s usual car was damaged in a minor accident last week, so it’s away for repair. Henry Pool said it’s common knowledge amongst the other drivers because Ferguson was very angry.”
“So he thinks he can be the replacement car?”
“Absolutely certain. Pool says if he asks for it, he’ll get it. The dispatcher is an old pal of his.”
“He’s not concerned about the hazard?”
“He said it’s common to leave passengers in the limousine to run errands for them, get a newspaper or cigarettes or sometimes a bottle. He’ll nip out, set off the bomb, and no one will be the wiser.”
“And the others are just as enthusiastic?”
“Yes, Docherty is quite happy about handling the Dark Man situation. He lived in Wapping years ago and knows his way round down there.”
“And Murray?”
“No problem. He’s going to put a suit and tie on, drive up to Cambridge in the morning with the photo, find where Monica Starling lives, and put a face to the name.”
“And Cochran?”
“He said that he seemed to have less to do than anyone. If I can’t find a way to break into a house inhabited by two spinster ladies, he said, I should be ashamed of myself.”
“Excellent. Call Barry and Flynn, too, tell them the good news, and give them the following name: Mikhail Potanin. Have you got that?”
“I’ve written it down.”
“He is a very experienced guy in this kind of business, and he’ll be in touch with them. They have nothing to fear. He’ll help in any way he can. This Friday in New York is definitely on.”
“Yes, I’ve got all that.”
“Get on to them right now. And . . . thanks, Caitlin.”
He called Chekhov next. It sounded like there was a party going on in the Park Lane apartment: music, female laughter.
“It’s me,” Holley told him. “What’s going on over there?”
“Daniel, old son. Just a few friends.”
“Are you drunk?”
“Never that, Daniel. You insult me as a Russian.”
“We need to talk.”
“And we shall. I’ll go into my study, close the door, and silence the chattering of fools.” There was a movement, a certain banging, and the noise died. “How can I help?”
“Everything’s dropped into place. Caitlin and her cell will swing into action here on Friday. As we speak, she’s confirming with Barry and Flynn that it’s on for Friday. I’ll give you their phone numbers.”
Chekhov said, “If I press a button, I’m recording this, so just tell me.”
Holley did. “I’m dropping this in Potanin’s lap to watch over them, make sure they’re up to it—and, if necessary, clean up any messes.”
“Don’t worry, Daniel, he’s done this kind of thing many times before,” Chekhov said.
“I gathered that, but make sure he realizes it’s serious business. I hear you had Ivanov on your case?”
“He gave me a call, I asked him if he’d spoken to you, and he said not yet. I get the impression he doesn’t exactly trust you.”
“And I don’t trust him. He called me, demanding that I fill him in on everything. I gave him short shrift. I had a package to deliver to Caitlin Daly.”
“And don’t tell me: he followed you?”
“He didn’t need to. He just popped up. But he wasn’t supposed to approach her or me in any way—that was the plan. He turned up in the graveyard at the church with some thug called Kerimov in tow. Tried to force me into his car.”
“Oh, dear, tell me what happened.”
“I shot him in the hand, not Ivanov, the large peasant. I left them there to sort it out, went along to the main road, and hailed a cab.”
“If you were here, I would embrace you, my friend,” Max told him. “That’s the most entertaining thing I’ve heard in years.”
“Glad to oblige. Call Potanin now and tell him to get things moving in New York. I’m relying on you.”
“The instant we hang up. What about Kurbsky?”
“I’ve got one of Caitlin Daly’s people investigating the house in Belsize. I’ve been to have a look. There’s something strange there, but I’m not sure what,” Holley told him.
“Surely Kurbsky couldn’t have been hanging out there. It’s too obvious.”
“I saw a weird guy coming out, a ghoul, God help him, obviously on chemotherapy.”
“That couldn’t be Kurbsky. He certainly doesn’t have cancer.”
“I’m not saying it was him. I