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still like to have someone else in there to do some groundwork. And we’d want access to Pavis’s operations desk.’
    ‘In a supervisory role?’
    ‘In an ideal world I’d like to run it.’
    ‘And if they’re not amenable to that?’
    ‘We’d like to be consulted on all operational matters with the right to veto,’ said Makepeace. ‘And if we suspect
any
terrorist connection, we take over the whole show.’
    ‘That’s fair enough,’ said the Commissioner. ‘Let’s see what we can do.’
     
    Boxer looked from his mobile screen to the two kings and two fours in his hand, weighed it: Martin Fox with a job possibility or the potential for a full house.
    ‘I’m going to have to take this,’ he said, folding.
    He left the room, stood in the granite-tiled corridor between two uplighters.
    ‘Martin. How’s it going?’
    ‘Hello, Charlie. Where are you?’
    ‘Tierra del Fuego.’
    ‘Pity,’ said Fox. ‘I can tell I didn’t wake you up. Is it windy?’
    ‘It sounds as if you’ve got a job for me.’
    ‘I do, but the initial meeting is over here, not Argentina.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘A girl’s been kidnapped in London. The client asked for you by name.’
    ‘How did he know me?’
    ‘You only find that out face to face.’
    ‘I’m in Lisbon.’
    ‘I know. I just tracked you,’ said Fox. ‘It didn’t sound like Patagonia in the background. Business or pleasure?’
    ‘In London, you said.’
    ‘Are you interested?’ asked Fox.
    ‘When’s the meeting?’
    ‘Two this afternoon in the Ritz.’
    ‘My flight’s not until this evening.’
    ‘I’ll book you an earlier one, business class.’
    ‘London?’ said Boxer, not letting that detail get away from him. ‘What about the Met?’
    ‘We’re entering into a collaborative arrangement with them.’
    ‘And now comes the small print,’ said Boxer. ‘Go on.’
    ‘You have to work with them. I have to work with them. The client mustn’t know.’
    ‘He’s important then?’
    ‘Ministers of the realm are involved.’
    ‘Who am I going to have to work with from the Met?’
    ‘Mercy is going to be your co-consultant.’
    ‘And how’s
that
going to work?’
    ‘I haven’t got all the details yet,’ said Fox. ‘That was all the special risks underwriter at Lloyd’s was prepared to tell me.’
    Silence, while Boxer thought it through.
    ‘I’ll double your daily rate, given the circs.’
    ‘Now you’re making me suspicious.’
    ‘There’s more work for Pavis where this comes from.’
    ‘Well, I’ve got to keep my hand in somehow,’ said Boxer finally. ‘And you’ll owe me one.’
    ‘Will I?’ said Fox.

 
5
     
    6.45 A.M., SUNDAY 11TH MARCH 2012
    location unknown
     
    Alyshia lay on her back, still with the velvet underside of the sleeping mask pressing against her cheekbones. Her eyes were open and desperate to see something other than the swirling colours that zero visual stimulation sent to her retina.
    The house rules had not been difficult to understand. Privileges had to be earned by answering questions and would be withdrawn for minor infringements such as doing anything without permission. Refusal to answer questions would be punished by being cuffed to the bed in increasingly more uncomfortable positions. Any assault on staff would incur corporal punishment. Any attempt to leave the room would be considered an escape and punishable by sexual violation.
    ‘Rape?’ said Alyshia. ‘So you wouldn’t kill me?’
    ‘No point. There’s considerable investment tied up in your detention,’ said the voice. ‘And don’t think it’s a soft option. If you try to escape, you’ll be gang-banged by thugs. So, not only will you fail, but you’ll be scarred for life. Don’t even think about it, Alyshia. Just concentrate on giving us what we want and improving your quality of life.’
    The sleeping mask was making her claustrophobic. Not in the way that the closed cab in the dark garage had made her panic, but more