"Gray suit, about fifty?"

"Colonel Josef Lermov, new Head of Station for the GRU at the London Embassy. At least, that's the whisper Ferguson's heard. He only told me yesterday and pulled out Lermov's photo."

"I see," Dillon said. "So they've given up on finding his predecessor, dear old Boris Luzhkov?"

"It seems so."

"It's hardly likely they would have succeeded, considering he went into the Thames with a bullet between the eyes. Ferguson had the disposal team fish him out the same day," Dillon told him.

"Ashes to ashes?" Miller said.

"If he couldn't take the consequences, he shouldn't have joined. Lermov is coming this way."

Lermov was. Even his smile seemed weary. "Major Miller, I believe? Josef Lermov." He turned to Dillon and held out his hand.

"So nice to meet you, Mr. Dillon."

"How flattering to be recognized," Dillon told him.

"Oh, your reputation precedes you."

Miller smiled. "How's Luzhkov? Still on holiday?"

Lermov gave no sign of being fazed. "I understand he is in Moscow being considered for a new post as we speak."

"What a shame," Dillon said. "He loved London. He must regret leaving after all those years."

"Time to move on," Lermov told him.

"And his number two man, Major Yuri Bounine? Was it time for him to move on?" A loaded question from Miller if ever there was one, considering that said Yuri Bounine, having defected, was being held by Ferguson in a secure location in London.

Lermov said patiently, "He is on special assignment, that is all I can say. I can only speak for my own situation in London and not for Moscow. You spent enough time serving in British Army intelligence to know what I mean."

"Oh, I do." Miller beckoned to a waiter. "Now join us in a glass of champagne, Josef? We could celebrate your London appointment."