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following his instincts in the absence of any other guide. Flight was his sole recourse.
    He wrenched open a sliding door and entered what looked like someone’s home. A woman rounded a corner and cried out in alarm. He ran through a couple of rooms, blundering past a goggle-eyed old lady. He could not grasp the internal layout of such a house. He could only aim to hold his course.
    Another door, stouter than the others, yielded to his tug. Then he was out in the next street, where lanterns blazed and crowds milled. He plunged in amongst them, trying to remember the direction of the station.
    Sam bitterly regretted abandoning Morahan, but he knew there was no one better equipped to look after himself. According to Everett, Morahan would be taken alive, which was a blessing to cling to. Sam did not understand the entirety of the trap they had walked into, but Jack Farngold’s death would be blamed on them. That much seemed clear. And Malory would surely be arrested, along with Ward and Djabsu, as their accomplices. Still, it was likely that would only be done after confirmation had been received in Yokohama that the operation in Tokyo had gone according to plan. If Sam could warn them of what was afoot—
    He stumbled, believing at first he had been jostled by another pedestrian. But then he realized how light-headed he felt. Raising a hand to his brow, he winced at a stab of pain and felt blood on his fingers. He must have hit his head at some point during his escape, perhaps when he was descending from the roof. He could not recall the exact sequence of events. Everything had happened so quickly.
    Ahead, to his relief, he saw the lights of Shimbashi station and staggered in among the throng. He bought a ticket for Yokohama, needing only to state his destination and dole out coins until the clerk signalled enough. Then he climbed to the platform.
    The light-headedness was growing worse. There was a sharp pain now, whether he touched the wound or not. The wary glances other people on the platform were giving him suggested he was not a pretty sight.
    A train drew in and he clambered aboard. It was only when he had sat down that he wondered whether he could rely on all southbound trains going to Yokohama. ‘ Sumimasen ,’ he said to the man sitting opposite him, deploying one of his very few words of Japanese. ‘We go … Yokohama?’
    ‘Yokohama?’ The man shook his head. ‘Kofu.’
    Wherever Kofu was, it was evidently not to be reached via Yokohama. The train had only just jolted into motion. There was still time for Sam to jump off. He leapt to his feet.
    That was when the pain hit him like a fist. And he went down into darkness.

MALORY DINED ALONE and fretfully at the Eastbourne Hotel. She could only pin her hopes, as Schools was pinning his, on the rendezvous with Jack Farngold. What worried her most was how little they knew. They had relied on Max to tell them more when he arrived. But now he would not be arriving. Jack Farngold was merely a name to them.
    It was all very well to declare their determination to carry on. Malory had recoiled from the notion of retreat. But Everett and the others did not know Max was dead. Sooner or later, they would have to be told. And then …
    ‘Message for you, Miss Hollander,’ interrupted the bellboy, a Portuguese youth called João who had displayed a consistent eagerness to please her throughout her stay. ‘From a Meester Monteith.’
    ‘ Obrigado, João. ’ Expressing her thanks in Portuguese delighted him mightily and he grinned widely.
    Since the note was written on Eastbourne Hotel headed paper, it was hard to understand why Monteith had not come into the dining room and simply spoken to her, though the contents hinted at special circumstances.
    Malory – Please meet me out front immediately you get this. I need to see you very urgently. Howie
    ‘Where is the gentleman now?’ Malory asked, considering whether she should send João to fetch him.
    ‘The street. I