Honour Among Thieves

and was pretending to be deeply interested in a speech being delivered by the Head of the Brazilian Mission. Al Obaydi's boss always preferred to have confidential talks on the floor of the General Assembly: he suspected it was the only room in the United Nations building that wasn't bugged by the CIA. Al Obaydi waited patiently until the older man flicked one of the earpieces aside and leaned slightly back. 'They've agreed to our terms,' murmured Al Obaydi, as if it was he who had suggested the figure. The Ambassador's upper lip protruded over his lower lip, the recognised sign among his colleagues that he required more details. 'One hundred million,' Al Obaydi whispered. 'Ten million to be paid immediately. The final ninety on delivery.' '"Immediately"?' said the Ambassador. 'What does "immediately" mean?' 'By midday tomorrow,' whispered Al Obaydi. 'At least Sayedi anticipated that eventuality,' said the Ambassador thoughtfully. Al Obaydi admired the way his superior could always make the term 'my master' sound both deferential and insolent at the same time. 'I must send a message to Baghdad to acquaint the Foreign Minister with the details of your triumph,' added the Ambassador with a smile. Al Obaydi would also have smiled, but he realised the Ambassador would not admit to any personal involvement with the project while it was still in its formative stage. As long as he distanced himself from his younger colleague for the time being, the Ambassador could continue his undisturbed existence in New York until his retirement fell due in three years' time. By following such a course he had survived almost fourteen years of Saddam Hussein's reign while many of his colleagues had conspicuously failed to become eligible for their state pension. To his knowledge one had been shot in front of his family, two hanged and several others posted as 'missing', whatever that meant. The Iraqi Ambassador smiled as his British counterpart walked past him, but he received no response for his trouble. 'Stuck-up snob,' the Arab muttered under his breath. The Ambassador pulled the earpiece back over his ear to indicate that he had heard quite enough from his number two. He continued to listen to the problems of trying to preserve the rainforests of Brazil, coupled with a request for a further grant from the UN of a hundred million dollars. Not something he felt Sayedi would be interested in. Hannah would have knocked on the front door of the little terraced house, but it was opened even before she had closed the broken gate at the end of the pathway. A dark-haired, slightly overweight lady, heavily made-up and with a beaming smile came bustling out to greet her. Hannah supposed she would have been about the same age as her mother, had Mama still been alive. 'Welcome to England, my dear. I'm Ethel Rubin,' she announced in gushing tones. 'I'm sorry my husband's not here to meet you, but I don't expect him back from his chambers for another hour.' Hannah was about to speak when Ethel added, 'But first let me show you your room, and then you can tell me all your plans.' She picked up one of Hannah's bags and led her inside. 'It must be such fun seeing London for the first time,' she said as they climbed the stairs, 'and there will be so many exciting things for you to do during the next six months.' As each sentence poured out Hannah became aware that Ethel Rubin had no idea why she was in London. After she had unpacked and taken a shower Hannah joined her hostess in the sitting room. Mrs Rubin chatted on, barely listening to Hannah's intermittent replies. 'Do you know where the nearest gym is?' Hannah had asked. 'My husband should be back at any moment,' Mrs Rubin replied. But before she could get the next sentence out, the front door swung open and a man of about five foot three with dark, wiry hair and even darker eyes almost ran into the room. Once Peter Rubin had introduced himself and asked how her flight had been he didn't waste any words suggesting that Hannah might have come to London to enjoy the social life of the metropolis. Hannah quickly learned that Peter Rubin didn't ask any questions he realised she couldn't answer truthfully. Although Hannah felt sure Mr Rubin knew no details of her mission, he was obviously aware that she hadn't come to London on a package holiday. Mrs Rubin, however, didn't allow Hannah to get to bed until well after midnight, by which time she was exhausted. Once her head had touched the pillow she