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Riley was quiet for a moment. “Forget that.”

“No, I want to know what you’re referring to, so that this won’t come up again.”

“I haven’t heard anything, if that’s what you mean, but I dispatched the guy who took out Dr. Kharl, so I’ve just connected a few dots.”

“Dr. Kharl designed and assembled the three bombs.”

“Plastic explosives are not exactly in Dr. Kharl’s line,” Riley said.

“If you go back a few years, you’ll find he had a very nice line in plastic explosives.”

“That’s the story, then?”

“Those are the facts, Tom. Any other questions?”

“No.”

“Then please answer mine.”

“MI-6 hit the Cheyne Walk house yesterday like a swarm of hornets, but all uniformed as painters, plumbers, and carpet cleaners, with their vehicles liveried as such. They were seen to have taken away two medium-sized safes and numerous file boxes. As a further cover, Hamish McCallister’s solicitor was present to make things seem kosher.”

“I see. Have you received any information from MI-6 that might be helpful to us?”

“They’ve been very quiet, and their chief of ops has not returned my phone call of this morning.”

“Do we have any further information on Jasmine not associated with the house?”

“She went to a girls’ school in Kent, then to a Swiss finishing school. No university education that we know of.”

“Any photographs?”

“One, when she was twelve and holding a hockey stick. We’re aging it now.”

“Please fax it to me in New York. Tom, you’ve no doubt heard details of how her two brothers were dealt with.”

“I read Lance’s report.”

“You may take that as a model of how to proceed when we find her.”

“Understood.”

“I’ll see if I can unearth anything from MI-6.”

“I’ll look forward to hearing from you, Holly.”

Holly hung up, called Felicity Devonshire’s direct line, identified herself, and asked for Architect. This time she was handled more gently and put through after half a minute on hold.

“Good afternoon, Holly, or is it morning where you are?”

“I’m calling from New York. Good afternoon. I’ve heard about your redecoration job on a house in Chelsea. Anything you can share with me? This is a secure line.”

“It’s quite a richly appointed residence,” Felicity said. “Very nice artwork, probably in the value range of five to ten million pounds’ worth. Hamish had very positive brokers’ and bankers’ statements in his safe. It seems he came into quite a lot when he turned twenty-one.”

“Were there any photographs of his sister?”

“None, nor of his brother, though there were bedrooms that may have been used by both of them. We found some cosmetics in one bathroom. Everything, however, and I mean everything, had been wiped clean—no prints, no DNA.”

“So, they had not planned to return there?”

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