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'No,' Devlin said. 'I don't think so. To him, it's just part of the job. Something that has to be done. He gets it over with cleanly and expeditiously. He has frequently spared lives over the years. Tanya and myself were a case in point. He goes for the target, that's all.'

'Don't remind me.' Ferguson shuddered, and then the door opened and Harry Fox came in.

'Hello, sir. Liam. I believe things have been happening while I've been away.'

'I think one could say that,' Ferguson told him. 'Did things go well in Paris?'

'Yes, I saw Tony. He's in control.'

'You can tell me later. I'd better fill you in on the latest events.'

Which he did, as quickly as possible, Devlin occasionally making a point. When Ferguson was finished, Harry Fox said, 'What a man. Strange.' He shook his head.

'What is?'

'When I met him the other day, I rather liked him, sir.'

'Not a difficult thing to do,' Devlin said.

Ferguson frowned. 'Let's have no more of that kind of bloody nonsense.' The door opened and Kim entered with tea things on a tray and a plate of toasted crumpets. 'Excellent,' Ferguson said. 'I'm famished.'

Fox said, 'What about Tanya Voroninova?'

'I've fixed her up with a safe house for the moment.'

'Which one, sir?'

'The Chelsea Place apartment. The Directorate supplied a woman operative to stay with her till we get sorted.'

He handed them each a cup of tea. 'So, what's the next move?' Devlin asked.

'The Home Secretary and the Director, and I must say I agree with them, don't feel we should make too public an issue of this at the moment. The whole purpose of the Pope's visit is sweetness and light. A genuine attempt to help bring about the end of the war in the South Atlantic. Imagine how it would look on the front pages of the nationals. The first visit ever of a Pope to England and a mad-dog killer on the loose.'

'And a priest to boot, sir.'

'Yes, well we can discount that, especially as we know what he really is.'

Devlin said, 'Discount nothing. Let me, as a not very good Catholic, fill you in on a few things. In the eyes of the Church, Harry Cussane was ordained priest at Vine Landing, Connecticut, twenty-one years ago and still is a priest. Haven't you read any Graham Greene lately?'

'All right,' Ferguson said testily. 'Be that as it may, the Prime Minister doesn't see why we should give Cussane front-page publicity. It won't do any of us any good.'

'It could catch him quickly, sir,' Fox said mildly.

'Yes, well they all expect us to do that anyway. Special Branch in Dublin have lifted his prints for us at his cottage. They've gone into the Dublin computer which, as you know, is linked with the security services' computer at Lisburn which, in turn, is linked to our computer here and at Central Records, Scotland Yard.'

'I didn't realize you had that kind of hook-up,' Devlin said.

'Miracle of the micro-chip,' Ferguson said. 'Eleven million people in there. Criminal records, schooling, professions, sexual preferences. Personal habits. Where they buy their furniture.'

'You've got to be joking.'

'No. Caught one of your lot over here from Ulster last year because he always shopped at the Co-Op. Had an excellent cover, but couldn't change the habit of a lifetime. Cussane is in there now and not only his fingerprints but everything we know about him, and as most of the big provincial police forces have what we call visual display characteristics on their computer system, they can plug in to our central bank and punch out his photo.'

'God Almighty!'

'Actually, they can do the same with you. As regards Cussane, I've instructed them to insert a deliberately amended record. No mention of the KGB or anything like that. Poses as a priest, known connections with the IRA. Extremely violent - approach with care. You get the picture.'

'Oh, I do.'

'To that end, we're releasing his picture to the press and quoting very much the details I've just given you. Some evening papers will manage to get it out, but all the national newspapers will have it