"I insist" said Hunter.

"I don't need help' Thomas tugged his arm but the grip remained.

"I see," said Hunter reflectively, not put off in the slightest.

"Am I to a.s.sume that you'll not be coming with me voluntarily?"

"You may a.s.sume what you like" "VM well: said Hunter, releasing the arm gently. He turned and nodded to the two uniformed officers, then looked back to Thomas.

At the time, the two policemen moved with remarkable speed for large men.

"In that case" said Hunter with a sly smile of appreciation,

"I'm placing you under arrest. I'm terribly sorry."

Thomas resisted slightly. Then it was nothing more than a blur as he was separated from his suitcase and shoved roughly against a concrete wall. By the time he looked down to his wrists there were handcuffs in place.

Chapter 14 Thomas was led from the immigration area and placed in the backseat of an unmarked dark-blue Rover. His luggage was placed in the trunk. He pulled slightly at the cuffs on his wrists and shuddered at the feeling of freedom diminished. He saw that the backseat of the car, which was separated from the front by a wire screen, had doors that could not be opened from the inside.

One of the uniformed men drove. The other stayed behind.

Hunter sidled into the front seat in front of Thomas, his expansive shoulders filling practically half of the frontarea. The Rover pulled away from the curb.

"Where are you taking me?" asked Thomas.

Hunter turned to face his prisoner.

"Are you worried?" he asked.

Thomas didn't answer. The porcine bearded face slowly creased into a grin.

"I wouldn't worry," grunted Hunter.

"You're going exactly where you wanted to go. You really had very little choice about it. Mr. Peter Whiteside wants to see you himself."

The Rover was on the motorway heading toward London.

Thomas looked out of the car apprehensively.

"How did you know where I was coming from?" he asked.

"Oh, come now, Mr. Daniels" said Hunter in a baritone chuckle.

"George McAdam?"

"We could have picked you up in Switzerland if we'd liked. But that might have been sticky, as well as unnecessary. Thank you for flying British Airways" Thomas settled back in the seat, calming slightly and seeing no alternative.

"Why couldn't I have gone to see Whiteside myself."

"Because you have a nonexistent address:' growled Hunter.

Thomas looked at the back of Hunter's neck, a neck that must have measured eighteen inches in circ.u.mference.

"Really, Mr. Daniels, you're horribly naive" The car traveled through the bleak working-cla.s.s neighborhoods surrounding London. It pa.s.sed through several unrecognizable sections of the city. Then Thomas recognized Victoria Station before the Rover turned left and within three more minutes was pulling to a curb in front of a Belgravia townhouse.

Hunter stepped out and quickly unlocked the back door. Thomas stepped from the car and looked into Hunter's drooping eyes.

Thomas held out his captive wrists.

"Are these still necessary?" he asked.

"You don't think I'm letting you run away now, do you?" asked Hunter harshly.

"They weren't necessary at all. But you insisted."

He took Thomas by the elbow and moved him toward the unmarked front door of a solid sandstone townhouse.

"Come along" Hunter said absently.

Thomas allowed his overcoat to be draped across his wrists.

Hunter pressed a thick finger to a doorbell and the townhouse door opened seconds later.

A plain clothed security guard surveyed them. The guard obviously recognized Hunter. Thomas was led inside as the driver from the Rover carried in his luggage.

They entered a small white rotunda where still another security man stood. A colored inst.i.tutional portrait of the Queen hung on one side of the round room, a Union Jack stood on a standard on the other side.

Thomas was led down a hallway which was carpeted with thick maroon runners. He recognized that he was within a gracefully aged Edwardian townhouse which had been converted to Government offices of some sort.

Hunter stopped him before a door.

"Now," asked Thomas's bear shaped keeper, "you're not going to do something foolish if I unlock you, are you?"

"Certainly not," said Thomas flatly

"I'm so happy to be here."

Hunter hardly batted an eye. He unlocked Thomas's wrists and then let Thomas into a small office off the hallway. Thomas's instructions were to sit down and wait, which he did, as Hunter closed Thomas in and stood outside.

Thomas seated himself on a comfortable sofa in a small plain room with no window. The room had an empty wooden desk, an armchair, sound insulation, and a few perfunctory decorations such as the British coat of arms on the wall behind the desk. The room offered very little other than privacy, of which it offered an abundance.

Thomas remained seated as an austere, elegant older man in a dark cla.s.sically tailored pin-striped suit entered. The man was in his mid seventies but his body was trim and moved easily, giving no indication of its occupant's age. The man's eyes, as he glanced at Thomas Daniels, were sharp, blue, and alive. His hair had resisted grayness and was instead a yellowish white. In earlier years this had obviously been a remarkably handsome man, lean and athletic, a man to whom flabbiness of flesh would have been as repugnant as flabbiness of thought.

His movements were epicene. He offered his hand to Thomas.

"I'm Peter Whiteside," he said.

"Did you enjoy your trip?"