gloomy and cool. There were worn sombre-coloured rugs on the flagged floor and dark heavy furniture. The doors were black oak studded with iron. The windows were shuttered and barred. The house had a brooding and forbidding atmosphere that made her pause in the entrance-hall.
'This way! The woman led her into a small antechamber off the main hall. Her escort followed her, carrying the single suitcase and the large parcel that Isabella had brought with her. She placed the suitcase and parcel on a heavy oak table then locked the door.
'Keys.' She held out her hand, and Isabella searched in her handbag and gave them to her.
Methodically the two women went through the contents of the suitcase. It was obvious that they had been trained for the task. They unfolded each item of clothing and examined the seams and linings. They opened each jar of cosmetics and probed the creams and ointments they contained with a knitting-needle. They palpated every tube and removed the batteries from the electric shaver which Isabella used on her under-arm hair. They tested the heels on her spare pair of shoes and the lining of the case. Then they turned their attention to the wrapped parcel. It contained the gift that she had brought for Nicholas. One of them reached for her handbag, and Isabella handed it over. They went through it with as much care.
'Please to remove clothes.' Isabella shrugged and began to undress. They took each item as she removed it and examined it minutely. They removed the shoulder-pads from her jacket and examined the lining of her bra.
When she was entirely naked one of the women ordered: 'Lift the arms.' She obeyed, and then to her horror one of the women slipped a surgical rubber glove on to her right hand and dipped two fingers into a pot of Vaseline.
'Turn around,' she ordered.
'No.' Isabella shook her head.
'Do you want to see the boy?' the woman asked heavily, holding up her two gloved fingers glistening with Vaseline. 'Turn around.' Isabella shivered and felt the goose-pimples rise on her arms.
'Please,' she whispered. 'I give you my word. I'm not hiding anything. This isn't necessary.' 'Turn around.' The woman's voice did not change. Slowly Isabella turned her back.
'Bend over,' the woman said. 'Put your hands on the table.' She leant forward and gripped the edge of the table hard.
'Move your feet apart.' Isabella realized that she was being deliberately humiliated. She knew that it was all part of the process. She tried to close her mind to it, but she gasped as she felt the woman's fingers slide into her and she started to pull away.
'Stay still.' She bit down on her lip, and closed her eyes. The examination was leisurely and thorough.
'All right.' The woman stepped back. 'Get dressed.' Isabella found tears upon her cheeks. She took a Kleenex from the pocket of her jacket and wiped them away. They were tears of fury.
'Wait here.' The woman stripped the glove from her hand and threw it into the wastepaper-bin.
The two of them left the room and locked the door.
Isabella dressed quickly and sat down on the bench. Her hands were shaking.
She clenched them into fists and thrust them into the pockets of her jacket.
They kept her waiting for almost an hour.
Ramsey had watched the search and the physical examination on the small screen of the remote video-camera.
The camera had been carefully positioned to give him a full view of Isabella's face during the entire process. What he could see of her expression gave him cause for disquiet. He had hoped, but not truly expected, to cow her completely. Instead he saw that cold fury in her eyes, the stubborn reckless line of her clenched jaw. He studied her carefully, leaning closer to the screen. Was that fury murderous or suicidal? He could not be certain.
At that moment Isabella glanced up and looked directly at the lens of the concealed camera. She recognized the camera for what it was, and he saw her take control of herself A veil fell over those glittering dark blue eyes, and her expression smoothed into blank neutrality.
Ramsey straightened up. He sighed. As he had suspected all along, this subject could not be pushed beyond a certain point. He sensed that the poit was very close now. She was on the very edge of rebellion. It called for a change of tactics. Very well; he was prepared for that. A change was often good procedure; it confused and unsettled the subject. Ramsey was always flexible and versatile.
He turned away from the screen and called softly: 'Bring the child.' Adra came through from the next room, leading Nicholas by the hand.
Ramsey studied him as carefully as he had the boy's mother. Adra had washed his hair for him that morning. His curls, shiny and springing, tumbled on to his forehead. She had dressed him in a plain short- sleeved shirt and short cotton trousers. His limbs were slim and smoothly tanned, his lips were a sensitive pink and his brows were darkly curved over his huge solemn eyes. He would break any mother's heart.
'Do you remember what I told you, Nicholas?' 'Sf, Padre.' 'You will meet a very kind lady. She likes you very much. She has a present for you. You will be nice to her and you will call her 'Mamma'.' 'Is she going to take me away from Adra?' 2ee 'No, Nicholas. She has come only to talk to you for a while and give you a present. Then she will go away. Will you be nice to her? If you are, Adra will let you watch a Woody Woodpecker video this evening. Would you like that?' 'Yes, Padre.' Nicholas smiled happily at the promise.
'Off you go now.' Ramsey turned back to the shuttered window and looked through the slats. In the courtyard below one of the KGB women was leading Isabella out into the sunlight. She pointed to the bench beside the swimming-pool, and her voice was amplified through the directional microphone that the signals clerk trained on her.
'Please to wait here. The child will come to you.' The woman turned away, and Isabella went to the bench. She sat down, took a pair of sunglasses from her handbag and placed them over her eyes. From behind the dark lenses she studied her surroundings covertly.
Ramsey depressed the transmit button on his two-way radio. 'All stations, this is Number One. Full alert. The contact is in progress.' Apart from the electronic surveillance equipment, Isabella now had a 7.e2-millimetre Dragunov sniper's rifle and a dart-gun aimed at her. The dart-gun was loaded with Tentanyl and would immobilize a human victim within two minutes. Ramsey had two io-milligram phials of Nalorphine on hand as an antidote. Even as a last resort, he did not want to risk losing such a potentially valuable operative as Red Rose.
Abruptly Isabella leapt to her feet and stared across the courtyard. Ramsey glanced down. Directly below the tower Adra and Nicholas had appeared. He could see the tops of their heads.
With a supreme effort Isabella prevented herself from rushing across the lawn and sweeping her son into her arms. She knew intuitively that such an action on her part would confuse and distress the child. He was at the age when any boy hated to be treated like a baby. Isabella had studied her copy of Dr. Spock until it was tired and dog-eared.
Slowly she removed her sunglasses and remained still. Nicholas hung on to Adra's hand and studied his mother with great interest.
Isabella had thought she was prepared for his physical appearance. The last photograph she had of him was only two months old, but it was nothing like the reality. It could not capture his colouring, nor the texture of his skin, nor those curls - and those eyes. Oh, those eyes!
'Oh God,' she whispered. 'He's the loveliest child. There could never be another like this. Please, God, help him to like me.' Adra tugged gently at Nicholas's hand, urging him forward, and they skirted the swimming-pool and stopped in front of her.
'Buenos dias, Sehorita Bella,'Adra said softly in Spanish. 'Nicholas likes to swim. There is a costume for both you and Nicholas if you want to swim with him. They are in the cabafia.' She pointed to the shuttered door of the bath-house. 'You may change in there.' Then she looked down at Nicholas. 'Greet the lady, your mother,' she instructed him gently, and released his hand. She turned and hurried from the courtyard leaving them alone together.
Nicholas had not smiled or taken his eyes from Isabella's face. Now he stepped forward dutifully and held out his right hand.
'Good day, Mamma, my name is Nicholas Machado and I am pleased to meet you.' Isabella wanted to drop on her knees and hug him with all her strength. The word 'Mamma' had stabbed through her heart like a bayonet. Instead she took his hand and shook it carefully.
-'You are a fine young man, Nicholas. I hear that you are doing very well at nursery school.' 'Yes,' Nicholas agreed. 'And next year I am to join the young pioneers.' 'That will be nice for you,' Isabella nodded. 'Who arc the young pioneers, Nicholas?' 'Everybody knows.' He was obviously amused by her ignorance. 'They are the sons and daughters of the revolution.' 'That's wonderful,' Isabella went on hastily. 'I have brought a present for you.' 'Thank you, Mamma.' Uncontrollably Nicholas's eyes slid towards the package.
Isabella sat on the bench and handed him the gift, and Nicholas squatted in front of her and unwrapped it carefully. Then he was silent.
'Do you like it?' Isabella asked nervously.
'It's a soccer ball,' Nicholas pronounced.
'Yes. Do you like it?' 'It's the best gift anybody has ever given me,' he said.
He looked up
