‘I’ll let loose the dogs,’ said Macmillan.
‘Quite a family affair,’ murmured Steven. He wondered how many more Mansour families were out there with scores to settle.
Macmillan called just after seven in the evening to say that ‘Leila’ had been traced and detained by the French Police. She had been living in an apartment in Montrouge in Paris, having flown there directly from Heathrow on the day Steven had seen her off — travelling under her own name.
‘It seems you’ve worked out everything,’ said Macmillan.
‘They damned nearly worked out everything,’ said Steven. ‘We came that close to disaster.’
‘What was it my old Scots granny used to say?’ mused Macmillan. ‘Nearly never killed a man.’
‘A comfort,’ said Steven.
‘So what d’you think they’ll do next?’
‘Crystal ball time,’ sighed Steven. ‘One thing’s for sure: it’ll take time to set up another “spectacular”… On the other hand, they won’t want to lose face in the short term… They could go for a direct strike.’
‘A bomb?’
‘Probably. They might well sacrifice a few foot soldiers… mount a suicide attack on some building in the city… or the transport system…’