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“Excellent. Now close your eyes and picture the ring. Was it gold? Silver? Plain? A stone set in it?”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and concentrated. “It was silver, heavy, with some sort of stone—that was the flash I saw. Yes it was definitely a stone—” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, that’s it. It all happened so fast.”

“Did you see a watch on his wrist?”

He said patiently, “Lady Elizabeth, when we find the driver you’ll recognize the ring and the watch.”

“Please, just Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth said, “Perhaps if I gave a statement saying I knew nothing about Basara’s hidden life?”

He walked back into his office and sat down, followed soon by Jenny carrying a tea tray. She poured them tea and left. John added lemon, Elizabeth a dollop of cream. She sipped the tea, felt her heart slow, felt her world settling back into place. “Thank you, John.”

He smiled. “I wanted the tea more than you. Did Samir Basara mention anything about his family that might help?”

“Yes, the man disguised as the old matron who planted the C-4 packets in St. Paul’s.”

“I’ve heard Wakefield is called Monster Mansion.”

“That refers to the inmates and is well deserved, as Zain has doubtless discovered. I brought him up because, unlike Basara, Bahar Zain has a large family, most of them still living in Syria. We know he has two younger siblings, but we’ve had no reason to search them out, until now. Zain’s mother lives in the West End, owns a chemist shop not far from the South London Mosque.”

Elizabeth sipped her tea and carefully set the lovely cup back onto the tray. She looked at him squarely. “What should I do?”

John said, “Yes, quite a few.” He picked up his mobile, punched in a number, spoke quietly, and punched off.

When they left, John sat down, finished his tea, and leaned his head against the soft leather headrest of his chair. The two men in an Aston Martin, both wearing black watch caps and dark sunglasses, had followed her, waiting for their chance to kill her? Trying to run her down on the sidewalk with a car was hardly a plan, it must have been a spur-of-the moment decision. What they’d done today, breaking into her house in the middle of the morning, opening fire when she refused to open the door, wasn’t any smarter, hardly professional. It didn’t make sense to him.

John pushed the thumb drive back into his computer and wrote another text to Khaled: Have Bahar Zain’s siblings ever attended South London Mosque? Has their mother? I will send you a file on Lady Elizabeth Palmer. Acknowledge receipt and give me your thoughts.