pyjamas, smoking the first cigarette of the day as she crossed the lawn and entered the wood. He stood up, frowning slightly, watching her go, then tossed his cigarette out of the window, turned and started to dress quickly. She advanced through the wood, still caught in that dream-like state and the sound of the rooks seemed to fade and there was the most profound silence she had ever known. She came out on to a long jetty beside an ornamental lake and stood there looking across the water. Suddenly, a voice said quite distinctly: Having nothing, yet possessing everything. It was her voice which had spoken, she broke through to reality again, aware of the rooks in the beech trees above her head, the smell of the damp grass, the golden glory of the morning. 'So this is what it's like!' she thought. 'Total certainty.' She had never felt so much at one with everything, so much a part of the whole. It seemed the most natural thing in the world to slip out of her robe and wade into the cold water of the lake. She turned on her back and floated there in the lily pads, face up to the sun, eyes closed. Luciano, walking along the path through the wood, paused, aware of Detweiler crouched behind a tree where the path dipped down towards the lake. He went forward quietly until he was close enough to see the object of the sergeant's attention, Maria Vaughan floating in the water-lilies below. 101 'Heh, Detweiler!' Luciano whispered softly, and when the sergeant turned, lifted a knee into his face, sending him over on to his back. Detweiler rolled over once, then was on his feet and moving in fast. Luciano's hand came up clutching the ivory Madonna, there was a click and the needlepoint drew blood under Detweiler's chin. Luciano said, 'Now hear this and hear good because I only say it once. If I catch you anywhere near her again, they'll find you in a ditch with a very personal part of your anatomy stuffed into your mouth. An old Sicilian custom.' Detweiler glared, an expression that was a compound of fear and hatred on his face. 'Damn you to hell, you Guinea bastard!' he said hoarsely, took a step back, turned and walked away. Luciano folded the knife and replaced it in his hip pocket. 'Heh, pretty one I' he called in Sicilian. 'You decent?' 'Mr Luciano,' she called back. 'Please stay where you are.' He took his time over lighting a cigarette and finally went down the path to find her on the jetty, tying hex robe. 'You're crary,' he said. 'You know that?' Her smile was enchanting. 'I've never felt so hungry.* 'Then we'll get back and have some breakfast.' She shook her head. 'Not possible just yet. There's a little Catholic church in the village. I'm going to early morning mass. What about you?' 'Do I look as if I would?' 'It's possible for anyone to end up on their knees, even Lucky Luciano.' He laughed, 'Okay, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll walk you down to the church, wait for you outside. How about that?' 10a 'It's a start.' They went up the path together. A small wind blowing across the lake brought with it the dark wet smell of rotting leaves. She paused, smiling. 'Isn't it wonderful? Doesn't a day like this make you feel good to be alive?' She ran up the path, lifting the skirts of her robe and Luciano watched her go, cold in spite of the sun as if someone somewhere had stepped on his grave. Reverting to his Sicilian childhood, he instinctively formed two fingers and a thumb into the ancient sign to ward off the Evil One and went after her. 8 The Avro Lancaster was the most successful Allied bomber of the Second World War. Its exploits included the sinking of the German pocket battleship, Tirpitz. Only three weeks previously, Lancasters of 617 Squadron had carried out one of the most daring raids of the war, breaching the Ruhr Dams and flooding the most important industrial area in Germany. It was shortly after nine o'clock that evening when Lancaster S-Sugar lifted off the main runway at RAF Hovingham and joined on the tail end
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