An hour later Sarah was still seething. She sat on the edge of the bed in her matching pink bra and panties, pulling a brush through her hair. Bob lay naked between the sheets.
'That little jerk. Who the hell does he think he is? Guys like him give all us Americans a bad name. What an asshole! If I ever see him again…'
Bob laughed and shook his head. 'Calm down, Doc. You're getting as red in the face as he was. I'll tell you what, why don't you phone Don the Consul and report him?'
She frowned at him. 'How can you be so calm about it? He threatened you in front of all those people.'
'Yeah, and I threatened him back. I don't think he'll do it again. If he does, I'll just have to call my pal Joe. To hell, maybe I'll do that anyway.'
'Who's your pal Joe?'
'The FBI guy in your Embassy in London. I wonder if old Al would fancy a full-scale IRS tax audit.'
Sarah looked at him. Even now, he was still capable of surprising her. 'Could you fix that?'
'Damn right I could. Now forget that bastard, and come here. There's a fella wants to talk to you.'
In an instant, she slipped out of her bra and panties and into bed, reaching for him. Just as he drew her close to him, the telephone rang.
Sarah swore softly, rolled over and picked it up. 'Hello?'
'Sarah? It's Maggie Rose here.' At once, Sarah was aware of the tension in the detective sergeant's voice. The woman was struggling hard to stay in control. 'I'm sorry, but I need to speak to the boss.'
Frowning, Sarah handed over the receiver.
Bob took it from her. 'Yes, Sergeant. What is it?'
'It's a bomb, sir. In the Assembly Rooms. In the Music
Hall. They've done it again. Oh, my God, but it's awful. Get here, please, sir! Just get here, please!'