Robbie was on the sofa in his pyjamas, watching cartoons.
"Hey, just because you're not going to school doesn't mean you can lie around half-naked all day."
"I'm not half naked," said Robbie.
"Get dressed. Now."
Robbie scowled and went off to the bedroom.
Tina handed Donovan a mug of coffee.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
"Sure. Why?"
"You keep frowning."
"Yeah? Sorry." He drank his coffee.
"I've got a busy day, that's all."
The landline rang and Tina answered it. She listened and frowned, then handed the phone to Donovan.
"It's for you," she said.
"No one knows I'm here," said Donovan.
"It's a man. He asked for you."
Donovan took the phone.
"Who is it?" he snapped.
"That's no way to talk to an old friend," said a voice.
"Who are you?"
"It's Hathaway, Donovan."
"How did you get this number?"
Hathaway chuckled.
"That's for me to know, Donovan. We need to meet."
"I'm busy."
"I know you're busy, Donovan. That's what we need to talk about. You've got the money back from Sharkey, right? Now I've got more information for you. Information that you're going to want."
Donovan looked at his watch. It was nine o'clock. Heliad to be at the airfield at four o'clock in the afternoon, and it was a two-hour drive from London. He had time.
"You know Blom-field Road? Little Venice?"
"I know it, but since when have you been setting the venues?"
"I'm not going to Camden again. Little Venice is quiet, there are plenty of ways in and out, not too many people."
"Donovan, if I wanted to take you down, I'd have people outside your door right now. I just want to talk. The information I gave you last time was solid gold. What I have for you today is even better."
"There's a bridge over the canal, opposite a pub called the Paddington Stop. I'll see you there in four hours. One o'clock. I can't get there any earlier, I've got things to do."
"One o'clock is fine." The line went dead.
Donovan finished his coffee and went into the kitchenette.
"I'm going to have to go out."
"When will you be back?" asked Tina.
"I'm not sure. Late."
"How late?" pressed Tina.
"God, I don't know. Have I got a curfew now?"
"Don't go, Den. Please." Donovan smiled.
"I have to."
She put the frying pan by the sink.
"You're up to something, aren't you? You're working. I know you are."
Donovan reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face.
"Best you don't know," he said.
"Is that how you treated Vicky? Kept her at a distance? Pushed her away?"
Donovan frowned.
"What's brought this on?" Tina hugged him and put her head against his chest.
"Just stay here. Let someone else take the risk, Den. Let's take Robbie out. Go somewhere. Have a day out."
Donovan put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes.
"What do you think's going on, Louise?" he asked.
She shrugged his hands away.
"I've heard you on the bloody phones, Den. I know what you're doing. You're bringing gear in and today's the bloody day."
"Have you been spying on me?"
"Don't be stupid, Den. This is a small flat and your phones have been ringing red hot for the last twenty-four hours."
"I have to go."
Tina shook her head.
"No you don't. You don't have to go. You can walk away. Walk away from it all."
"We'll talk about it later," he said. Tears welled up in Tina's eyes.
"Louise, I'm sorry, I have to go."
"Damn you, Donovan!"
Donovan took a step back from her, genuinely surprised at the intensity of her reaction.
"I don't have time for this now, Louise. We'll talk about it later."
"And what if there isn't a later, Den?"
Donovan pressed a finger against her lips, then he leaned over, kissed her on the forehead, and hurried from the flat. Tina rushed after him but he closed the door without looking back.
She leaned against the door, her eyes filled with tears. She'd wanted to say more, but she couldn't. She couldn't tell him, because the truth was that she was betraying him. She was helping to set him up.
She wiped her eyes and sniffed. And who was the man who'd phoned? Donovan always made and received calls on his mobiles, he never used her phone. There had been something vaguely familiar about the man's voice, but for the life of her Tina couldn't place it. Whoever it was, he'd unnerved Donovan.
Robbie came out of the bedroom. He stopped in the hallway when he saw Tina was crying.
"What's wrong?"
Tina shook her head.
"Nothing."
"He'll come back," he said.
"Don't worry."
Tina nodded and wiped her eyes again.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"It's not your fault," said Robbie.
"That's just the way he is."
"I know," she said.
She held out her arms and Robbie rushed towards her and hugged her.
"It'll be okay," he said soothingly.
Tina patted Robbie's head. She knew that it wasn't going to be okay. It was going to be far from okay.
Donovan waited on the bridge, whistling softly to himself. He adjusted the Velcro band under his watch strap and then put a hand on the detector unit on his belt. Everything was going according to plan. Jordan and Macfadyen had already left for the airfield. Donovan had called PM and told him where the plane was landing and what time to get there. And he'd arranged to meet Fullerton at Hyde Park Corner so that they could drive to the airfield together. The only fly in the ointment was Gregg Hathaway.
A narrow boat chugged underneath the bridge. A grey-haired woman in her seventies had her hand on the tiller and she gave Donovan a cheery wave as the boat went by. Donovan waved back.
He straightened up and saw Hathaway walking down Formosa Street, a laptop computer case hanging from one shoulder.
Hathaway was grinning as he walked to the middle of the bridge.
"Lovely day for it," he said cheerily.
"What is it you want?" asked Donovan.
"I want to be rich, happy, to be with somebody who loves me. Children would be nice. Pretty much what every man wants."
The detector on Donovan's belt remained still. Hathaway wasn't wearing a recording device or transmitter.
"You know what I mean," said Donovan.
Further down the canal a middle-aged angler threw a handful of ground bait into the water.
"I want to talk," said Hathaway.
"Try the Samaritans," said Donovan.
"I'll miss your sense of humour, Donovan." He looked at his wristwatch.
"Got somewhere to go?" asked Donovan.
"No, but you have, haven't you?"
"I'm tired of playing games, Hathaway. What do you want?"
Hathaway smiled without warmth.
"You didn't think twice before putting that bullet in my leg, did you?"
"I thought about killing you."
"I bet you did. Have you any idea how that bullet changed my life?"
"Got you a better job, didn't it?"
"I loved being in Customs, Den. Loved working undercover. I was bloody good at it."
Donovan flashed Hathaway a sarcastic smile.
"Clearly you weren't. If you'd been any good, I wouldn't have made you."
"Someone grassed me. One of your informers."
Donovan shook his head.
"You gave yourself away. I forget now what it was, but it was down to you. Some story you told. Some anecdote. You told it wrong. Told it like you'd memorised it. Like it was a script."
"Bullshit!"
"Why would I lie? To hurt you?" Donovan chuckled.
"We're beyond that, aren't we?"
"It was the job I'd always wanted. I was one of the good guys, fast track. Then you shot me and I'm in hospital for three months. And three months after that I'm sitting at a desk in human resources being told that there is no place for me in the leaner, meaner Customs and Excise. Thank you for your loyal service and good night."