"Who didn't?"

"International Conservation Fund."

He went past the American and headed down the back stairs to the garage. The American followed.

"Why not? They didn't like it?"

"No, they liked it," Mallory said. "But they got Leo as a spokesman, and used him instead. Campaign went to video spots."

At the bottom of the stairs, he swiped his card, and the door unlocked with a click. They stepped into the small garage beneath the building. It was dark except for the glare of daylight from the ramp leading to the street. Mallory noticed with annoyance that a van partly blocked the ramp. They always had trouble with delivery vans parking there.

He turned to the American. "You have a car?"

"Yes. A van." He pointed.

"Oh good, so that's yours. And somebody to help you?"

"No. Just me. Why?"

"It's bloody heavy," Mallory said. "It may just be wire, but it's half a million feet of it. Weighs seven hundred pounds, mate."

"I can handle it."

Mallory went to his Rover and unlocked the boot. The American whistled, and the van rumbled down the ramp. It was driven by a tough-looking woman with spiked hair, dark makeup.

Mallory said, "I thought you were alone."

"She doesn't know anything," the American said. "Forget her. She brought the van. She just drives."

Mallory turned to the open boot. There were stacked white boxes marked "Ethernet Cable (Unshielded)." And printed specifications.

"Let's see one," the American said.

Mallory opened a box. Inside was a jumble of fist-sized coils of very thin wire, each in shrink-wrap plastic. "As you see," he said, "it's guide wire. For anti-tank missiles."

"Is it?"

"That's what they told me. That's why it's wrapped that way. One coil of wire for each missile."

"I wouldn't know," the American said. "I'm just the delivery man." He went and opened the back of his van. Then he began to transfer the boxes, one at a time. Mallory helped.