Analysis has been made and a considerable portion of the device reconstructed; we already know that it was of Japanese make, but do not regard this as necessarily significant, since terrorism is international and so are its weapons. We know also that the device was detonated by remote control, via a radio beam."

The Ambassador lifted his head an inch.

"They're absolutely certain of that?"

Ferris hadn't moved.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

Metcalf leaned forward. He was tanned and athletic-looking but must be close on sixty; this could be his last tour, and it hadn't been very pleasant, apart from the physical shock he'd received down there in Tian'anmen Square; he'd caught some of the blast and his left eye was still red from the effects of the flying debris.

"You mean," he asked carefully, "that the timing of the explosion was also controlled?"

"We cannot say that. We can say that the timing of the explosion was technically feasible." When the girl finished translating he made to add something but the Ambassador cut in.

"You mean," he asked with even more care, "that if these — if the perpetrators had wanted to explode the device at a precise and premeditated time, they could have done so. Is that right?"

"That is right, yes."

Ferris was gazing quietly at the wall, where there were yellowing photographs of Princess Anne taking a jump on a thoroughbred and Charles clouting a ball. We were pretty certain of one thing, and had talked about it this afternoon: this hadn't been an act of terrorism, a public and dramatic show to catch world attention; it had been an act of assassination, and at the moment when the Secretary of State had bent forward close to the coffin to place the wreath there'd been someone in the crowd or on a rooftop with binoculars and a transmitter.