Samuel.'

'Hall,' Bob grunted. 'Why change the habits of a lifetime?' He refilled all four glasses.

'Time for a toast. Let's be traditional for once. The happy couple!' His wife echoed his words, and together they drained their glasses.

`Good stuff that,' said Sarah. She poured two more refills, adding, 'Let's have another toast. One we can all drink this time. To Michael Laing!'

Another bottle of champagne later, they were ready to do justice to Pierre Victoire's menu, with starters which included warm brioche with mushroom sauce, creamed scallops with smoked salmon, and melon with crispy bacon, and main courses which ranged from baked monkfish to venison casserole. The clamour of the evening roared around them but they did not notice, because they were part of it.

The men chose cold beers as dessert, leaving their ladies to tackle the sticky toffee pudding.

`Here, friend,' said Bob, taking a swig of his Budweiser Straight from the bottle. `D'you realise wee Jazz is going to be your brother-in-law?' Andy choked on his beer, and Alex spluttered on her sticky toffee.

As the laughter subsided, Sarah looked across at her stepdaughter. 'My God, I forgot to ask. Have you set a date yet?'

`Give us notice of that one, for Christ's sake,' said Bob sincerely.

`Relax, Pops. We're in no hurry, are we, Andy?' He smiled and shook his head in agreement, perhaps not entirely sincerely. 'We just thought we should put a label on it; mark out the territory, so to speak. I want to get my studying over with before getting married. I've still got to finish my diploma year at University, then put in my two years in a solicitor's office, before I can think about going to the Bar.'

`That's all up to you, Babe, but do one thing for me.'

`Name it, Father.'

`Don't make any formal announcement for a few weeks, and keep the ring out of sight.'

`Why?' Her face clouded over.

`Because if Andy's appointment as Head of CID, and his engagement to my daughter were announced in virtually the same breath, the comedians in the Press would have a field day.

I've already filled in one bloke today for taking your mum's name in vain, and I don't want it to become routine procedure.'

She gulped. 'Sorry, Pops. I never thought. Our timing's lousy.'

Not your timing, love — God's. Or rather, someone else's!'

THIRTY-SEVEN

Arrow waited until the stairway light, on a push-button time-switch, flicked out before turning the brass handle.

As he had suspected, the door was unlocked. He pushed at it very gently, until a little light spilled out, not from any source in the narrow hallway but from deeper within the apartment. Opening it to the minimum to avoid the creaking of the hinge which he knew would have come at a certain point, he slipped soundlessly inside.

Three doors opened off the hall, all panelled with frosted glass. The one on his left shone with a soft pink light, against which he could make out the shape of a dressing gown hanging on a hook. Holding his breath and moving with ghost-like silence on the balls of his feet, he crept past it to the door facing him, opened it and slipped inside.

The room was warm. The imitation coals in the gas fire still glowed, telling him that it had been switched off for only a few minutes, and the television screen still shone with a blue-grey luminescence. As his eyes became accustomed to the darker surroundings he could make out the shape of the furniture — a two-seater settee, an armchair, a sideboard, and in the heavily Curtained bay window, a small round table.

He dropped into a crouch behind the sofa and waited, ready to spring into action at any moment.

The minutes dragged out. He shifted his position occasionally to ease the weight on his joints. The side- effects of an office job he mused. I never used to feel stiff, lying in ambush for people in the dark.

At last he heard the sound of someone moving. The pink-lit door off the hallway swung open, and suddenly, the rest of the apartment was brighter. Instinctively, he dropped deeper into his place of concealment, ready to react at any moment to discovery, but instead, he heard the sound of the third door opening, then closing quickly, and saw the effect of a second light being switched on.

Seizing his chance, he sprang to his feet and, like a nervous cat, moved back out into the hallway. He saw at once that the dressing gown was still hanging behind the door.

When she returned, he was already in bed. She jumped when she saw him, with a small involuntary gasp, her pert breasts bouncing in a particularly intriguing fashion.

Adam, you swine! You're always playing games! How long have you been here?'

About ten minutes. And I'm always telling you about leaving that bloody door on the chain. One night it might not be me who comes through it.' He took a corner of the quilt, lifted it up, and Shana Mirzana slipped into bed beside him.

`You're warm,' she said, rubbing herself against his body, feeling his arousal. She touched the light stubble around his chin, and kissed him, sniffing quickly at his breath as she did so. `Been drinking?'

`Watch it. Even breathing it in is against your religion, ain't it? I had a quick meal and a beer with the Scots lads in the Sherlock Holmes, that's all,' he said. 'I made my excuses as soon as I could. They're staying in the Strand Palace, but they were off in search of t'nightlife when I left.'

`They'll be lucky.'

Ah but they'll have help. They were meeting up with that lad from the Met in some pub up Wardour Street.'

'Did you tell them where you were going?'

`Bloody 'ell no. What's the use of being a spook if you can't keep secrets?'

Does anyone know about you and me, Adam?'

Not as far as I know, but it's an interesting question. Who Spies on the spies? I'm in the business and I don't know. Imagine though, if there's no one checking up on me, the power I'd 'ave. There was no one checking up on George Blake, and look what he did.'

She propped herself on an elbow and looked down at him. `But you must have a boss.'

`Sure, I have. John Swift, my sidekick, and I report to the Permanent Secretary. We're on secondment from the Army.'

She laughed. 'Swift and Arrow! Quite a combination!'

He forebore to tell her that those were not the names on their birth certificates, a security measure designed to protect their families rather than them. Instead he chortled, 'We get straight to the point, though,' and dived beneath the quilt.

Her gasps turned into squeals as his searching tongue sought her out, until at last she took him, urgently, under the arms and drew him up, on top of her, plunging him into her… not like an arrow, she thought idly, but like a lance — writhing and moaning, bucking urgently against him as he thrust, and thrust, and…

They came together in a great roaring climax, their muscles tensed almost to the point of cramp, until at last they relaxed and slumped, replete, into each other's arms.

To the point you do indeed get,' she murmured ungrammatically, sliding out from beneath him. She pulled herself up into a sitting position and gazed at him as he lay there, face down and smiling. She ran her hand over his skin. It was almost as brown as hers. She tugged his hair.

`Hey,' she said. 'Do you realise how vulnerable you men are?’

‘However tough, however strong, however highly trained, there are always moments when man is completely at the mercy of woman.'

He rolled over and smiled up at her. The thought does occur to me from time to time, but always too late. Fortunately there are damn few women in my line of work.' A small cloud seemed to cross his smile. 'Mind you, I've got a mate who took up with a wrong 'un once.'

`What happened when he found out?'

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