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slowly.
     
     
Lady Helen, her umbrella high against the teeming rain, found China Wharf with no trouble. There was a light at the pub window and an old-fashioned gas lamp bracketed to the wall above the painted sign that said the Sailor. It threw a diffused light to the edge of the wharf, the river black beyond, lights on the far side. She hesitated, uncertain now. A large Range Rover was parked close to the pub entrance, Ryan's, probably.
     
     
She stood in the umbrella's shelter and the kitchen door opened and Dillon came out. She recognized him at once from the file, and, surprised, she drew back. She watched him walk across the wharf and light a cigarette, then the kitchen door opened again and Tim Pat Ryan, also unmistakable, rushed out.
     
     
'Dillon, you bastard,' he called, and in the light she saw the Smith & Wesson. 'Here's for you.'
     
     
Dillon laughed. 'You couldn't hit a barn door, you never could. Someone always had to do it for you.'
     
     
His hand found the butt of the Walther and he drew it, crouching as Ryan fired wildly. Dillon put a foot forward to steady himself, but there was a puddle of spilled oil there, and he slipped, falling headlong, the Walther skidding away.
     
     
Ryan laughed triumphantly. 'I've got you now,' and he fired again.
     
     
Dillon rolled frantically and went over the edge of the wharf, plunging into the dark waters below. It was bitterly cold and he surfaced to find Ryan peering down.
     
     
'So there you are.'
     
     
He raised his Smith & Wesson, and then Dillon heard a voice call: 'Mr Ryan.'
     
     
Ryan turned. Dillon heard a muted cough that he recognized as the sound of a silenced pistol, then Ryan came backwards over the edge of the wharf, hit the water beside Dillon and surfaced with a hole between his eyes. Dillon pushed him away and grabbed for a ring bolt. There was a footfall above, but no one looked over. When the voice spoke again, it was with an
     
     
Irish accent.
     
     
'Are you all right, Mr Dillon?'
     
     
'As ever was, ma'am, and who in God's name might you be?'
     
     
'Your guardian angel. Take care, my friend.'
     
     
He heard her walk away, as he swam to a wooden ladder and climbed up. As his head rose above the edge of the wharf, he caught a brief glimpse of her disappearing into the shadows, a dark shape under an umbrella that was gone in a moment.
     
     
He pulled himself over and stood up, streaming water. His Walther lay where it had fallen and Ryan's weapon was close by. He pushed the Walther into his waistband and picked up the Smith & Wesson, went to the edge of the wharf, looked down at Ryan's half-submerged body, then hurled the gun far out into the river.
     
     
'And you can chew on that, you bastard,' he said, and hurried back to the Mini Cooper.
     
     
He had a mobile phone in the glove compartment, got it out and dialled Cavendish Square. Ferguson sounded irate. 'Who is this?'
     
     
'It's me,' Dillon told him.
     
     
'Good God, do you know what time it is? I'm in bed. Can't it wait until the morning?'
     
     
'Not really. An old friend just passed on.'
     
     
Ferguson's voice changed. 'Permanently?'
     
     
'Very much so.'
     
     
'You'd better come round then.'
     
     
'I need to go home first.'
     
     
'What on earth for?'
     
     
'Because I've been swimming in the Thames, that's why,' and Dillon switched off and drove away.
     
     
Ferguson thought about it and then phoned Hannah Bernstein.
     
     
She answered at once. 'Are you in bed?'
     
     
'No, reading actually. One of those nights. Can't sleep.' 'Phone through for one of the emergency cars and get round
     
     
here. It would appear our Sean has been involved in some sort
     
     
of mischief.' 'Oh, dear, bad?'
     
     
'The graveyard variety, or so it would seem. I'll see you soon.' He put down the phone, got out of bed and pulled on a robe,
     
     
then he phoned through to Kim, his Ghurka manservant, woke
     
     
him up and ordered tea.
     
     
Hedley had