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scarcely relevant in this case,’ she said. ‘Legally we have no choice but to arrest him or risk worldwide embarrassment. This isn’t the backwoods of Afghanistan, Clements. This is the UK, and our security forces have to operate here in the full glare of media attention, and within the law.’
    ‘You’re right, of course, Home Secretary.’ Clements’s voice now dripped sarcasm. ‘A firefight on Hampstead Heath would be so much easier to defend to the media if it resulted in the death of a ruthless and notorious terrorist during an operation to arrest him.’ He glanced at the DSF. ‘If that regrettable event were to occur, I am correct in assuming, am I not, that it would be revealed that Antonov was known to be armed and extremely dangerous?’
    The UKSF commander’s face immediately betrayed his dislike of Clements. ‘You would be correct in assuming that my men would meet force with force, Mr Clements. But if you’re implying—’
    Clements held up his hand. ‘I’m implying nothing,’ he said. ‘I’m merely trying to ensure that your men are free to take all necessary measures to halt this appalling terrorist and not be placed in jeopardy by needless restrictions on their freedom of action.’
    COBRA meetings weren’t minuted. The politicians could say what they liked: their words would never be available as evidence. The Thatcher government had offered the Regiment immunity from prosecution during its dark and dirty war against the IRA, but they had quite correctly turned the offerdown. They had known that once the agreement was exposed it would be members of the SAS in the dock for breaking the law, not the politicos. They would simply say they had no recollection of any conversation or agreement that let the UKSF do such things in the UK.
    ‘The welfare of my men is my principal concern, Mr Clements.’ The DSF knew he had to be careful. ‘But whatever the terms of their deployment, and whatever resistance Antonov puts up, I can assure you that there will be no fire-fight on Hampstead Heath. If there is collateral damage, it will be contained within the house itself.’
    ‘Just the domestic staff, then, and they’re probably all Russian,’ Clements said. ‘Brilliant. So in order to ensure that Antonov is arrested rather than eliminated, we’re going to send in the SAS with one hand tied behind their backs, increasing the risk to their own lives, not to mention those of the cooks, maids and gardeners. A hundred and fifteen thousand pounds per head in compensation will be a small price to pay for such good press.’
    ‘Thank you for being so constructive, as always, Edward.’ The home secretary’s sarcasm matched his own. She hit the table with both hands, hard. The walls were too thick for the sound to echo, but it got everyone’s attention all the same. ‘Right. If we’ve all finished?’ Her expression defied anyone to disagree. ‘Then let’s get on with it, shall we? But I hope I’ve made it sufficiently clear that I expect this to be a non-lethal operation.’
    Her gaze travelled from the DSF to the Met’s assistant commissioner.
    As Clements collected his papers and strode from the room, the commissioner picked up the mobile phone lying on the table in front of him and spoke into it.

7
    HALF A DOZEN miles away, still sitting at the table in the back bar, Woolf waited, listening to COBRA’s muffled waffle. As the words in his ears began to sound as if they had been caught in a blender, he thought about his much younger third wife. Today was their first wedding anniversary. He stroked a hand over his thinning hair. When this was all over, maybe he’d make the appointment in Harley Street she’d been on about. As a present for them both.
    Woolf held up a hand for silence and turned to Gavin. ‘COBRA wants confirmation that this is an operation for the hard arrest of one Laszlo Antonov.’
    ‘Confirmed,’ Gavin said.
    ‘Confirm that there will be no threat to his life or