Very short update. One more to go after this, I think. Thank you very much for the lovely reviews!

Harry sighed. 'Tariq...'

'It's wiped, it's wiped.'

'Thank you. Ma...Zulu One, do you copy?'

'Copy that, Alpha One.'

'Anything on the facial recog?'

'The only red flags are the two bodyguards. Carmine Cannavaro and Pietro Girardi. Unknown to us but they ring alarm bells with Six and Interpol. Their involvement is suspected in arson, extortion, GBH...but none of it has ever been proven.'

'And now they're living on our patch. Great. Find out whatever you can about where they're living and working and arrange for surveillance to be set up. Just cameras and phone taps for now, mobiles too if you can.'

'Copy that. Roger and out.'

To her relief, Valerio di Matteo was otherwise engaged, making slow and erratic progress across the dance floor with his young niece, her feet on top of his, her hands clasped in his paws. Smiling despite herself, Ruth felt a hand on her arm and turned.

'Oh my goodness, Sarah! You look so beautiful!' Alessia held her at arm's length for a moment, admiring the transformation, then pulled her into a hug. 'Thank you so much for coming! Are you having fun?'

The woman's genuine pleasure in seeing Ruth only served to accentuate her gnawing feeling of guilt at her deception and at what the security services were hoping to do to Alessia's family. But, as Harry had once told her, Ruth was a born spook and she played her part to enthusiastic perfection.

Eventually, with fulsome apologies and promises of lunch after the honeymoon, Alessia was steered away towards the dance floor by her brother, and Ruth looked around for Harry. To her amusement, he was earnestly listening to an elderly woman; short, solid, in funereal black and sensible shoes, who seemed to be teaching him how to waltz.

'Tariq, are you getting this?' she asked, mischievously.

'Ohhhh yes. Loud and clear!'

Ruth smothered a grin and contemplated going to rescue Harry, before deciding that food and a glass of wine was a much more enticing prospect. And then, she sighed, she'd better do something about Signor di Matteo.

She felt a hand on her back, lips at her ear. 'So, who's this you're chatting up, sweetheart?'

As the fingertips drifted down to nestle round her waist, she resisted the urge to grind her heel into his bespoke brogues, and instead did the introductions. The two men shook hands.

'Congratulations, signor, you have a very beautiful daughter. And it's been a lovely evening.'

The grizzled head inclined slightly.

'We've just been talking about Sig di Matteo's new business venture,' said Ruth.

'Oh?'

'Importing foodstuffs from Italy for his deli.'

'Is that so?'

The little currant eyes glittered and an arm circled the room. 'You do not think all this from Tesco, huh?'

Harry smiled. 'So whereabouts is this deli, then? I could do with somewhere near me which sells fruit and veg that actually tastes of something.'

'We're still looking, we're still looking. Clapham maybe. Islington maybe. Who knows.'

'Well, I have friends in the property game. If you'd like their details let me know.'

Dimitri as an estate agent? Ruth thought. Well, he'd certainly have the patter.

All around them, candles were being lit. The Italian followed her gaze. 'Almost time for speeches,' he explained.

Massimo Tabbiani was a splinter of a man, with the nose of a brawler and the smile of an angel. He also, it appeared, had a talent for public speaking; although London born and bred he spoke Italian fluently, and while Harry had no idea what he was saying, going by the expressions on the faces of the women around him he was fairly sure it was a declaration of love to his new wife that would have made Ovid proud. Ruth sat beside him, enraptured; in the glow of the candlelight she was dewy eyed, her cheeks flushed, her lips forming a soft smile, and he felt a sudden surge of emotion so intense he wanted to cry out. Not wanting to spoil the moment, but desperate to communicate with her in some small way, he reached for her lap and gently laid his hand over hers. Immediately her hand shifted and, resigned, he moved his to lift it away, only to feel their fingers entwining.

For the first time in his life, Harry prayed for a speech that would last til dawn.