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Behind us, sunfish sail kits sitting on the rear lip of the vehicle, crouches a fourth soldier who holds the heavy machinegun. We take the narrow forest track, round the back of the old estate, beneath the small escarpment fringed with dripping evergreens.
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'Well, if ever you need me if ever I can do anything . . . just call me.' 'I shall. Goodbye.' 'Farewell, Sharrow.' He turned abruptly and walked quickly back to the bandamyion.
It s all right, I know the contact, I ve known him for years, but Washington doesn t know I know him. His name is Krupkin, Dimitri Krupkin, and as I told Mo, he can be bought for five pieces of silver.