The computer-linked phone system was flashing, so he took a half-full bottle of champagne from the fridge, poured a glass, pressed a replay button and quickly found himself talking to Hamid Malik at the villa in Algiers.

'I was worried,' Malik said. 'What's happening?'

'Not much. The meeting with Ali Kupu is on. Eleven o'clock, about fifteen minutes from here.'

'So late?' Malik sighed. 'I don't know, Daniel. Do we really have to deal with people like Ali Kupu still? These Albanians are pigs. Bastards of the first order. Completely untrustworthy. Most of them would sell their sisters on the streets.'

'A great many do,' Holley said. 'Since we spoke, I had another message from him. He wanted to change our meeting to Havar. Can you believe that?'

'But that's in Kosovo, close to the Bulgarian border. You couldn't even consider it!'

'Of course not, especially when you remember what happened the last time I did business there.' Holley had been betrayed to the Russians and ended up with a life sentence at the Lubyanka Prison. It was only by luck that Vladimir Putin, searching for someone to make mischief against General Ferguson and his people in London, had heard about him and pulled him out of his cell.

'But in the end, everything's turned out for the best, my friend,' Malik said. 'Business couldn't be better; your rather violent past is no longer held against you. You are not only a millionaire businessman, but a respected diplomat. Don't spoil it. This Ali Kupu is scum. The arms deal he wants is maybe two hundred thousand dollars. Petty cash. Who needs it?'

'It's an easy one,' Holley told him. 'Trust me.' 'A gangster,' Malik said. 'He deals in drugs, violent prostitution. Pah!'

'But this has nothing to do with any of that. He's told me the material is for Muslim village defence forces in Kosovo. They aren't being protected by the central government any longer- and that's a known fact. AK47s, RPGs plus ammunition-we can meet the order at the Marseilles warehouse, ship it out by air this week, and we're done.'