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with a gentleman. What did they ask you? About your son in New York?"
    She was confused and bewildered. Few things seemed real to her anymore, and her memory was fading fast these days.
    "I can't remember. I can't remember anyone calling."
    Which was true, for she was in the early stages of Alzheimer's. It was obvious to Ashimov that he was wasting his time.
    "Never mind. Let's be on our way, then."
    The rain was driving down, no one around as they went along the street, the fog drifting up from the river. They went past the shop, which now showed a closed sign inside the door.
    "It's going to be a dirty night later," he said.
    "I think you're right."
    "But still a nice view of the Thames." He turned in at the old wooden jetty, the wheels of her chair trembling over the warped wooden boarding.
    "There you are." He paused at the top of the steps going down to the river.
    "I like it at night with the lights on the boats."
    Her voice was like a small wind through the trees on a dark evening, as he looked at the river high with water lapping at the bottom of the steps. Then he shoved the chair forward. Strangely enough, she didn't call out, but gripped the arms of her chair tightly, and when she hit the water, she went under instantly as the chair emptied her out.
    It was only four or five feet deep, a mud bank when the tide was out. Someone would find her soon enough. He'd done her a favor, really. He lit a cigarette and walked away.
    A few minutes later, standing in a doorway, he phoned Ali Selim. "You can relax. Mrs. Morgan has met with an unfortunate accident."
    "What are you talking about?" Ashimov told him. Selim sounded horrified. "Was that necessary?"
    "Come on, Selim, you were the one talking about loose ends. Now, don't forget, if the police inquire, you were unhappy about her habit of going to the mosque alone in her wheelchair, which is why you often sent young men to fetch her."
    Selim took a deep breath. "Of course."
    "She was prematurely aging, confused a great deal of the time."
    "She had Alzheimer's."
    "Well, there you are. I'll leave it with you," and Ashimov hung up.

    Chapter 4.
    It was at ten the following morning that Patel, exercising his small terrier, found the body and the wheelchair on the beach. He called the Wapping police, and since Hannah had put a tracer on Mrs. Morgan, she was notified at once at the Ministry of Defence.
    Ferguson was in a Defence Committee meeting, but Dillon was in the office and she quickly filled him in.
    "So what do we do?" he demanded.
    "Get down to Chandler Street fast and I'll put a red flag on the case and take command. You come with me. You might be useful."
    They used a department limousine with a civilian driver, retired police. Hannah said, "It's one hell of a coincidence."
    "And you know how much I believe in those."
    Just then, Dillon's mobile rang. "Sean? It's Roper. I've got something interesting for you on Ashimov and also on the Wrath of Allah thing."
    "Hold on to it for just a bit. Mrs. Morgan's turned up on a mudflat at the end of her street, and Hannah and I are on our way. We're just about there. I'll call you later."
    They took a turn, and then there they were. There was a police paramedic's ambulance, the usual team, and a sergeant in charge who jumped to attention when Hannah showed him her warrant card and assumed command.
    "Not much of a scene of crime, ma'am," he said. "Plenty of mud." She and Dillon looked over the rail. "It's obvious what happened. The gent who found her said she was always pushing herself in her wheelchair up and down the street to the Queen Street Mosque. Come off the pavement twice before in the past and ended up in the gutter."
    Hannah said, "Right. Get her up out of there and deliver her to Peel Street Morgue. I'm going to call in Professor George Langley. He'll handle it."
    She walked away with her mobile and stood in a doorway. Dillon saw Patel lurking outside his shop and went over.
    "This must have been a shock for you?"
    "A