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who drove away.
    Sara turned, found herself facing not her own front door but the Judas Gate in the entrance to Holland Park. Dillon opened it for her, pressing a button on his Codex.
    â€œWhat’s going on, Sean?” she demanded.
    â€œOh, I need to bring Roper up to date on what happened, and we’re not all that far from your place. You could have a steam for a while in the spa, even stay in the guest wing, or I can drop you home when I’ve spoken to Roper.”
    She sighed. “All right.”
    They crossed the courtyard and opened the front door, but were surprised to hear Ferguson’s voice echoing from the computer room.
    â€œI wonder what he’s doing here,” Dillon said. “Do you want to face him?”
    â€œNo, thanks, the steam room sounds fine.”
    â€œOkay, off you go. I’ll handle it.”
    She vanished along the corridor into the shadows, and Dillon stood at the door of the computer room, listening, and then went in.
    â€œHoly Mother, and me thinking you’d wrapped up for the night.”
    â€œOh, we never close,” Roper told him.
    Ferguson said, “I went home to get some essential papers. I’m due at the Cabinet Office first thing in the morning to brief the Prime Minister on Simon Husseini. I thought I’d come back here and use one of the guest rooms so I’d get an early start.”
    â€œSo what’s your story?” Roper asked. “If you have one at all.”
    â€œOh, I certainly do,” Dillon said. “Though there are aspects of it that may not get your seal of approval.”
    â€œThat sounds sinister,” Ferguson said. “Better get it over with and tell us the worst.”
    He was smiling when he said that, but not when Dillon was finished. “That’s incredible. We were only discussing the Iranians earlier and then they go and turn up in the flesh.”
    â€œCarl Jung called it synchronicity,” Dillon told him. “Events that have a coincidence in time, so that it’s understandable to imagine some deeper meaning involved.”
    â€œNonsense,” Ferguson told him. “Pure coincidence. Emza Khan lives in Park Lane just up the road from Shepherd Market, where his son is a well-known drunk in local bars and clubs. The fact that Declan Rashid turns up, obviously trying to clean up the mess Yousef Khan has created for his father, should surprise no one.”
    â€œWell, let’s put it down to the romantic in me,” Dillon said.
    â€œNothing romantic about it. Things got very much out of hand, and that Captain Sara Gideon drew her pistol in a public place is to be deplored. The Iranians will be taking a close interest in what we are doing, which was the last thing I wanted.”
    â€œOr was it?”
    Ferguson frowned. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
    â€œThat you’re a master of guile and wickedness, always stirring the pot.”
    Ferguson wasn’t in the least put out, just smiled cheerfully. “Of course I am, and one never knows what’s going to bubble up to the surface. Take Paris and Simon Husseini. Anything could happen, the possibilities are endless.” He swallowed the last of his whiskey, got up. “Must get some sleep. See you at breakfast.”
    Roper said, “What do you think he’s up to?”
    â€œI haven’t the slightest idea,” Dillon said. “When I do, I’ll let you know.”
    He moved to the door, and Roper said, “Are you staying?”
    â€œI don’t think so. Sara’s downstairs having a steam. She preferred not to face Ferguson at this stage.”
    â€œI don’t blame her.”
    â€œI’ll join her and take her home in the Mini when she’s ready.”
    He went out quickly, leaving Roper to his screens.
    â€”
    A t Park Lane, Declan Rashid, a slight smile on his face, read the computer report on Ferguson and company that the printer had ejected.