'On condition he pays in advance.'

'Absolutely. Cash on the nail or he doesn't get the goods. Don't worry.'

'But I do. You're like a son to me. Finish it quickly and get out of there. You have the Falcon there, don't you? Thank God I agreed when you suggested we buy it for the firm.'

'It's parked at Charles de Gaulle Airport waiting for me. I'll leave tonight, but I might call in at London before I return home.'

'Any particular reason?'

Holley hesitated, but decided not to mention the other business. 'Oh, I fancy a couple of days at the Dorchester after meeting with someone like the Albanian. Maybe I'll walk up to Shepherd Market, visit your cousin, Selim.'

'I envy you. I'd enjoy that myself.'

'I could send the Falcon.'

'Nonsense. So expensive.'

'We're making millions.'

'Leave me to mind the store. Allah be with you.'

The connection went silent. It was just past nine o'clock, still time to have a quick look at the computer to see if Roper had sent the material. He poured another glass of champagne, sat down and scanned the first page.

It took him twenty minutes to go right through it all, very briefly and far too quickly, but it was enough. 'My God,' he said softly. 'What have we got here and what in the hell is to be done about it?'

And then a strange thing happened. He was aware of an energy; a cold, hard excitement he hadn't known in years. He called Roper and got him at once.

'Did you get the material?' Roper asked.

'You can tell Ferguson I want to be part of whatever operation you're putting together. I'll be in London tomorrow,' he said, and hung up.