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and worked its way up to his throat. 'It's not just about me. They'll arrest both of us. Don't you understand, they'll break us.' He stood up. 'Just one job. I'll go to London, see what it is, and I'll get guarantees that it's just this once. If it's too dangerous, I'll tell them to get stuffed.'
Gill turned away. Her cheeks were reddening, and she pushed her hair out of her face. 'I tell you, you go to London, and it's over between us.'
'Christ, Gill,' shouted Matt. 'Do you have any idea what they'll do to us? They'll throw us in jail, then arrange one of those convenient accidents so we never get out again. Let's play them along, and see if we can get out of this mess with our freedom, and our money still in the bank.'
Gill took two steps back, her expression a mixture of fear and defiance. 'You haven't changed, Matt,' she said softly. 'I thought I could settle you down, but I see now that I can't. There's always another job, another mission, another adventure. I thought you cared enough for me to give all of that up, but I was wrong. I don't think you can ever have a proper relationship, Matt. Because you'll never know how to put someone else first.'
She turned round, and started walking towards the house. 'I wanted to be your wife, Matt, not your widow. Now I don't want to be either.'

'So what do you serve the gangster boys for lunch around here, old fruit?' Abbott sat down at the table, glancing through the menu. Matt sat down opposite him, his expression sullen.
'I was hoping for a slice of the old horse's head.' Abbott laughed to himself, and started taking off his jacket. 'But I suppose I'll have to settle for the club sandwich, and a glass of rosé. Don't think I can face the sausage and mash in this heat. But good to see you have all the local specialities.'
'We serve what our customers want,' said Matt irritably.
Abbott wiped his brow with his handkerchief. It looked as if the back of his neck, the only bit of skin he left exposed to the sun, was starting to burn. 'So, you want your money back?'
'Tell me the job, and I'll tell you the answer.'
Abbott took a single sheet of paper from the inside breast pocket of his jacket and handed it across to Matt. 'I've booked you on to the five past ten BA flight back to London tomorrow morning. You can meet me for lunch at my club the day afterwards. I'll tell you then.'
Matt nodded. 'Which club?'
'The Oxford & Cambridge, on the Mall,' said Abbott, taking a sip from the glass of rose that had just been placed on his table. 'I'm sure you know it.'

THREE
The note felt flimsy in Matt's hands. A single sheet of blue writing paper, covered in a few lines of her familiar, rounded handwriting. Matt read it once, and was about to toss it towards the bin when he paused and read it again.
Dear Matt,
Go to London if you want to. I know you are doing what you think is right, but I also have to do what I think is right. I refuse to spend the rest of my life lying in bed alone at night terrified of what dangers you might be facing. If I'm going to lose you, I'd rather lose you now than later.
I'm breaking off the engagement, for the last and final time. Don't try to contact me.
Good luck.
Love, Gill.
Matt looked over the apartment. It was the same bachelor pad he'd had on leaving the SAS three years ago. Although he had hardly noticed it happening, the place had been girled up: some small beige cushions seemed to be arranged across the sofa; on top of the TV there were pictures of Gill and him together; the bathroom had acquired a new mat; and the hi-fi seemed to have been pushed back into a corner where you could hardly find it.
He put the letter into the magazine rack – something else that seemed to have turned up that Matt couldn't recall buying – and stepped outside. He still had an hour or so, before he had to be at the airport, and he wanted to check into the bar first. Maybe Gill would be there.
Even though it was just after eight in the morning, the sun was already rising in a