'What's happening with Brogan?' Wilson whispered.
'Being flown back to the UK under escort,' Lorimer replied.
'Right, looks like we've got all our ducks in a row,' he added, spotting the officer who was to launch the Black Hornet. 'Radio silence, all units, please,' he said, nodding to the members of his team who watched and waited from the confines of their vehicle.
Mick Stevens was completely oblivious to the tiny helicopter whirring silently past the window of his bedroom, hovering to a place just out of his direct line of sight. But he did know that things had begun to happen.
The fire alarm had been set off half an hour ago, making him look out into the corridor. The frightened face of a porter met his as the man rushed towards the nearest exit. And in that one look, the hit man had seen something he recognised. Fear. And not just the fear of some bogus fire. It was fear of him. The hit man. Mick Stevens.
So now he knew it was happening. Everything had caught up with him yet all he felt was a strange sense of calm, as though this day had been inevitable.
When he heard the loudspeaker announcing the police presence, Stevens had been savvy enough to keep out of sight from the window There would be police marksmen all over the bloody place, ready to pick him off the moment they saw his face.
'Let the woman go, Stevens!' a voice commanded, its booming tones reverberating in the cold air outside his room.
'What d'you think, darlin'? Should I let you go?' Mick smiled sadly at Marianne whose eyes bulged with terror at the pistol pointed at her. 'After all, Billy's been a bad boy, bringing the cops after us, hasn't he?' Stevens reasoned, waving the gun at her.
'Deserves to be punished,' he went on. 'And what better way,' he brandished the weapon closer to Marianne's face, 'than to leave him a little message?' he laughed softly, pulling one finger back.
Marianne shrank further into the chair, her body slick with sweat under the thin covering of her nightdress. He was going to kill her. Any minute now he was going to press that trigger… she closed her eyes, terror numbing her senses, her only prayer that it would be over quickly.
'Right, you're coming with me, darlin',' Mick crooned softly. 'A little walk upstairs. See if you'd like to fly instead.'
Lorimer and Wilson exchanged glances as the couple left the hotel bedroom and disappeared. The Black Hornet's microphone had picked up the hit man's words perfectly but it was unable to do any more unless he appeared by that window.
'The roof,' Lorimer said, shortly. 'He's taking her up onto the roof.'
The DCI shifted his position to get a better view of the upper level of the hotel, then spoke into the mouthpiece. 'Attention all units. No firing until you are absolutely sure that the girl is out of Stevens' way. And as soon as we have sight of them get the Hornet up to their level!'
'Oh my God,' Wilson whispered. `D'you think..
Lorimer's face was grim as he replied. 'I think he may be going to jump,' he said. 'And take Marianne with him.'
Amit had watched the men following him, aware of their presence at every street corner. Didn't they know how adept he had become in those frightened weeks after his father's death when spies had dogged his every footstep? Here in this strange city he might have been considered an easy target, but Amit Shafiq knew all about the art of surveillance.
Hiding from these undercover officers was not an option, so the man from Lahore had decided to adopt a different strategy altogether.
He was not going to be hunted all of his life. No, he would turn this to his own advantage. Now, whenever he saw them, Amit simply turned and walked back towards them, across busy roads, in and out of the subways, smiling to himself as they moved away, shiftily, as though they hoped their cover was still intact.
So it was that the hunters became the hunted and Amit Shafiq had let several of them pick up his trail, hoping that they might eventually lead him to where Marianne was hiding. Practising that U-turn, he had followed different men and women all over the city until this morning. One of them, a woman in jeans and a sweatshirt, ostensibly out jogging on Byres Road, had put one hand to her ear as if she was adjusting her iPod. But it was the expression on her face as she stopped mid-stride, rather than the tell-tale action, that immediately alerted Amit. Something was happening.
Suddenly ignoring the Asian, she broke into a run, fled across Great Western Road, one hand waving frantically as she hailed a taxi.
Amit was not far behind her.
He grinned as he got into his own cab, feeling almost like a boy again as he told the taxi driver, 'Follow that cab!'
The road at Houldsworth Street had been closed to traffic but the woman's taxi stopped a little beyond the police tape and Amit saw her get out, brandishing what he took to be a warrant card at the officer who bent towards the taxi driver.
'Here,' Amit whispered to his own driver. 'You never saw me.
All right?' Then thrusting a couple of twenties into the man's hand, he slipped out of the cab and walked cautiously past the empty car park at PC World, and the deserted forecourt of the Citroen garage.
'Sorry, you can't go past here, sir,' the uniformed officer told Amit. `DCI Lorimer needs me,' Amit told him firmly. 'I'm with that other officer but we got split up back there,' he lied, pointing to the woman in running gear who was now quite far ahead, almost at the corner where the road forked right towards the City Inn.
'Need to see your ID, sir,' the man replied firmly.
'Of course,' Amit said, putting a hand to his inside pocket. Then, as though he had spotted someone behind the policeman, he smiled and waved. As the officer turned, Amit broke into a run, arms pumping hard by his sides, heart thudding at his own audacity.
Marianne felt her legs buckle beneath her as Max pulled her off the chair, her bonds cut free by a knife he had produced from somewhere.
'Come on,' he told her, flicking her hair back from her face with the blade of the knife. 'Get going.'
As the hit man pocketed the knife and picked up the gun again, Marianne bit her lip. She had to go, she just had to…
Too terrified to reach out and touch his arm, the woman watched his every move until finally she caught his eye.
'Please,' she begged. Van I go to the toilet?'
He seemed to hesitate for a moment then shrugged. 'Okay, but make it quick.'
With a sigh, Marianne sat on the pan and closed her eyes. It was humiliating to have him standing there, watching, but the relief as her bladder finally gave up its contents overcame any residual embarrassment.
'Right, move it,' the hit man told her.
Somehow she managed to stumble towards the doorway and out into the darkened corridor. All the lights were out, she noticed. Had the hotel staff cut off the power? A flicker of hope entered the woman's heart. Maybe the police outside would save her from the man who was pushing her steadily along, that gun pressed into her back, urging her towards the end of the corridor.
Or would Max relent? Tell her it was all a mistake? That he never intended to harm her?
The fresh air made her gasp as the door was thrust open and Marianne was bundled onto the roof. Her nightdress billowed upwards, exposing her bare legs and for a moment Marianne feared that she would be blown straight off into the river below 'I can't…' she said, holding back, her eyes pleading with the gunman.
'Move,' he said, twisting her arm painfully so that now she was in front of him, a human shield, protection from whoever tried to fire on them.
'Please,' Marianne whimpered, her bare feet taking steps against their will. Sharp bits of gravel cut into the soles, making her wince.
The edge of the roof began to come so close. Too close…
'No!' she said, struggling in his grip. 'Don't make me! Please!'
But her words blew away in the wind as he forced her nearer and nearer to that dizzying drop.
Amit walked slowly around the corner of the street, aware at any minute that he might be made to return. The undercover policewoman had disappeared and there were several police vehicles parked around the outside of
