“Nonsense. If there’s ever a woman who knows her own mind, it’s Hannah Bernstein. She’s always done the job because she wants to do the job. It’s everything to her. I’ll look in this evening.”

He thought about it for a while, then called Roper at Regency Square. Roper was permanently confined to a wheelchair as the result of an IRA bomb several years ago, and his ground-floor apartment was designed to enable a severely handicapped person to fend for himself. Everything was state of the art, from kitchen to bathroom facilities. His computer equipment was state of the art as well, some of it highly secret and obtained by Ferguson ’s liberal use of muscle. Roper was at his computer bank when the General called.

“So how did it go?”

Ferguson told him of his talk with Cazalet. “I’ve got Blake with me. He’s going to stay at my place for a day or two while we see if we can make any sense out of all this.”

“Blake’s got a point when he said it’s as if it never happened.”

“And that’s what Belov International is confirming by announcing Belov’s visit to Station Gorky.”

“Well, one thing is certain. You know this goes to the highest level in Moscow, and that includes Putin himself. The worldwide economics involved are simply too important. Whatever has happened, there’s bound to be a Kremlin connection.”

“Then can’t you find out what? Dammit, man, there must be traffic somewhere out there in cyberspace that has something to do with it.”

“Not that I’ve seen. Have we got anyone who could nose around at Drumore, do an undercover job? Pretend to be a tourist or something?”

“Hmm, that’s an idea. If you see Dillon, mention it to him, would you? I’ll see you later.”

Ferguson sat there for a moment, frowning, then went to the small bar and helped himself to a scotch. Blake said, “Problem?”

“Bellamy at Rosedene says Dillon’s going through some sort of guilt feeling over Hannah. It’s as if he feels responsible for her condition.”