Inside, the factory's vast interior seemed relatively clean, aside from a few signs of vandalism and remnants of questionable activities. Mallory tossed a few items off a dusty bench and set the briefcase down.

"Now we see just how good your Russian is." She waved a hand toward the case and stepped aside.

"Me! I get to do this? I could just take this and get it to Felix on my own."

Her brows creased, and she slid a hand into her purse. "That would mean your word was worthless."

The hand in the purse hammered home just how serious she was, and he regretted his statement, knowing he hadn't meant it.

"Just kidding." He tried a grim smile. "So, I get the honours."

"I can't. But that's why I brought us here - just in case. Nobody else can get hurt." The hand came away from the purse.

He wasn't sure if she was serious or not, but her apparent confidence in him brought on a sudden rush of perspiration. He took out the slip of paper he'd copied the symbols onto, and began studying them - very carefully.

"You know, these things are really only designed to destroy the contents, not blow up the neighbourhood."

"Then you have little to personally worry about." Her smile was enigmatic. "Unless, of course, that was the intention."

"Right." He muttered slowly, looking at the symbols again. "This looks like Templars cyphertext. We got these in training. It's a straight substitution code. Wish I'd paid closer attention now."

"Do you know the substitutions?"

"It's memory work really. Been a long time. But the good news is, it's alphabetical, which means we're looking at a text phrase for opening the case. Bad news is it probably is in Russian, which I would then have to translate to English."

"Why?"

"So you could open it after I'm gone. I told you, Mallory," he said with a sly grin, "I wouldn't see you have your asset in jeopardy. Now, I need a pen and paper. This could take a while."

Mallory returned from a leisurely period with a couple of coffees, and set one on the bench beside him.

"How's it going?"

"Slowly."

"I received another text from Percy," she said, concern clouding her features. "The cleaners are done and where the hell are we."

"Did you reply?"

"Not yet."

He stopped writing and looked at her. "This could fall under national security, Mal. We might be biting off a lot more than we can chew."

She popped the lids off the coffee and handed him one, sipping from her own. "When we first spoke, I told Percy we had questioned Luka before he uh, made a break to escape." Her eyes tracked his, looking for an expected bit of fury, having left that detail out. "I told him we were tracking down what we hoped was a clue we had picked up in our questioning. I told him I'd check in later."

The moment demanded silence, and got it. They stood staring at one another, then finally he finished his coffee and shrugged. "Guess we should find out then." He turned back to his paper and pencil.

Another agonizing hour passed before he straightened up, stretching with noisy grunts. "My Jove, I think I've got it."

"Are you sure?" Mallory got up from the piece of cardboard she was half lying upon.

"Want to try it?"

"How generously self-effacing we are." She moved several yards away, and raised her coffee cup in salute. "While I am interested in contents, not so much in remnants."

"Jesus! You are cold." He set his solution on top of the case, read it carefully while wiggling his fingers in preparation. "Here goes."

Morrisey let out a long blast of air; he hadn't realized he was holding it so long. The latches clicked smoothly, and he raised the lid carefully, revealing the contents. A few items of spy work, the sealed dossier, and the deadly little mechanism that would have destroyed the contents if he had been wrong.

"Bingo!" He lifted out the envelope and handed it toward Mallory.

"You did it!" She threw her arms about him hugging, and kissing his cheek.

The moment froze them both, and before it ended Morrisey adjusted their positions and kissed her long and tenderly. She pulled away, slowly, her face flushed and her eyes wide.

"Uhm . . . I guess we should look at the contents . . ."

He released her arms and backed away, blowing out a long breath. "Right. Contents." He tried a smile, feeling awkward, and let her take the envelope. "And the winner is?"

"I'm almost afraid," she said, weighing it in her hand.

"Shall I put it back?"

The tension ended, and they fell back into their professional roles as she gave him an apathetic look. "I wouldn't want to waste your efforts."

She studied the seal, and then with her thumbnail, she slit the flap around the seal and lifted out the thin file folder. Morrisey minded her from the corner of his eye while he detached the self-destruct mechanism from the case. The kiss like a neon sign flickering in front of his eyes.

"Well?"

She sagged back against the bench, her mouth hanging open as she read the file. "I don't believe this. It can't be true." Her face pale, expression stunned.

He took the file from her hand and read. When he finished, he handed it back and watched her openly.

"I think we've got some decisions to make - you've got some decisions to make."

She placed the file in the envelope and started out of the building.

"Where are we going?" He grabbed the briefcase, trotting to keep up.

"I need to think . . . and I need a very large, very strong drink."

♟♟♟♟♟

The pub was nearly empty, and they chose a table in a remote corner, with a jug of dark bitters. Mallory sat staring at her phone, and then put it down; her features seemed to have altered - a tiny preview of where her age would take her.

"Percy again. There was nobody at the meeting place. He's livid, demanding we come in immediately."

Morrisey missed her words, his own thoughts scrambling over the dog's breakfast of what he knew, thought he knew, and now wished he didn't.

"What am I going to do? Christ, Morrisey, Duggan did this. He tricked me and now he's selling me out!"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Calm down, and think it through. What reason would Duggan have for burning you, particularly after he gave you such a valuable asset?"

She slumped back in her seat and stared at her glass. Finally, she glanced back over at him. "You said you thought we might be being set up."

"This sure looks like you were. But why?" He wiped his fingers along the edge of the table, thinking. "Duggan gives you an asset in The Guild. The deal you make is protection for her kid. Suddenly she reports a courier is bringing a dossier she believes to be on her. Instead, we find the dossier is on you and how you are running a mole off the books. So who compiled the dossier?"

"It had to be Duggan. Who else could know about Ava?" Mallory pinched her face up and swore softly.

Morrisey sat forward, his manner intense. "Jesus . . . could it be . . .?"

"What?"

"Duggan gets you to recruit Ava. Then a dossier appears in Russian hands along with the story of a mole. A meeting is arranged with Felix, for some mutual agreement," He waved a hand, "doesn't matter what. The purpose was to alert Felix about Ava. Why, do you suppose?"

"I have no idea. Are you saying he gave it to the Russians on purpose? What about the assassin, where did he come from? We know he was Russian but--"

"Forget him for a minute." Morrisey was getting excited. "I was sent to make sure it did take place. If I succeeded, Ava would likely be murdered and you would be, what was it you said, pilloried?"

"Are you saying Duggan was using me as a cut-out for the murder of Ava Kapova? Why would he want that? He could have had any one of dozens just take her out - you even."

Morrisey made an unpleasant face. "I don't do wet work. But he needed a foolproof firewall between himself and any part of this. Why? What could be so dangerous to him . . . You succeeded, Mal, the contents are useless." He slammed back in his seat at the same time Mallory hit the table with her hand, and they almost shouted together.

"The daughter! He's the father of Ava's daughter!"