He walks from the bar, doubles back as if he has forgotten something, ducks into the forecourt of an apartment building, waits in the darkness of the shuttered shops, waits and listens – and hears nothing. There are no telltale footsteps, no rustle of clothing. Apart from the distant roar of the Madrid traffic, a twenty-four hour noise, he does not hear anything.
        Another taxi, and he gets off in the Calle de Carmen, outside El Cortes Ingles, where he takes his time, still watching for any sign he is being followed. Hugh strolls now to Pasadizo de San Ginés, where still checking, he walks along and turns right before he turns back to retrace his steps. He is calmer when he sees Donnellan is waiting for him in the Chocolatería San Ginés, with a cup chocolate and a churro in front of him.
        'You're clear? Nobody on your back?' He looks worried, and this reinforces Hugh's belief that they are about to dive into something much bigger and far more dangerous than anything he has done over the past years.
        'As far as I know,' Hugh says. 'Maybe I'm just jumpy.'
        'Maybe. But better that than being jumped. Any idea where you might have been picked up?'
        Hugh shakes his head. 'No. Didn't notice anything until I was in the bar. I was just mooching along. Not really paying attention.'
        As he always is at moments like this, Donnellan is calm, thoughtful; composed again, the momentary panic has vanished. 'There may be nothing in it, might just be your imagination. Alternatively, if they picked you up in town, they tailed you until you lost them. Either way, we take no chances from now on. Full alert. It is enemy territory. We assume they are looking for you and me.'
        'If that is so,' Hugh says slowly, 'who do you think it is?'
        'It could be anybody. There are enough of them who'd like to find us.'

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