“What do I do?”

The Chief pushed a file across. “Enrico Noci, a double agent who’s been working for us and the Albanians. I didn’t mind at first, but now the Chinese have got to him.”

“Which isn’t healthy.”

“They never are. Too damned earnest for my liking. There’s a boat waiting at Bari to take Noci over to Albania tomorrow night. All the details are in there.”

Chavasse studied the picture, the heavy, fleshy face, the weak mouth. A man who was probably a failure at everything he had put his hand to, except perhaps women. He had the sort of tanned beach-boy good looks that some of them went for.

“Do I bring him in?”

“What on earth for?” The Chief shook his head. “Get rid of him; a swimming accident, anything you like. Nothing messy.”

“Of course,” Chavasse said calmly.

He glanced through the file again, memorizing the facts it contained, then pushed it across and stood up. “I’ll see you in London?”

The Chief nodded. “In three weeks, Paul. Enjoy your holiday.”

“Don’t I always?”

The Chief pulled a file across, opened it and started to study the contents, and Chavasse crossed to the door and left quietly.

THREE

ENRICO NOCI LAY STARING THROUGH the darkness at the ceiling, smoking a cigarette. Beside him the woman slept, her thigh warm against his. Once, she stirred, turning into him in her sleep, but didn’t awaken.

He reached for another cigarette and there was a slight distinctive rattle as something was pushed through the letter box in the outer hall. He slid from beneath the blankets, careful not to waken the woman, and padded across the tiled floor in his bare feet.

A large buff envelope lay on the mat at the front door. He took it into the kitchen, lit the gas under the coffeepot and opened the envelope quickly. Inside there was a smaller sealed envelope, the one he was to take with him, and a single typed sheet containing his movement orders. He memorized them, then burned it quickly at the stove.