London had never looked more beautiful than the night I flew in—Saint Paul’s Cathedral, the Houses of Parliament, and all the other old citadels of power and grandeur standing like sculptures against a red and darkening sky.

It is fair to say a lot of my work has been a row through a sewer in a glass-bottomed boat, but even by those low standards Markus Bucher was memorable.

Then we had a piece of luck, or at least that’s what it looked like. We should have known better, of course.

secretly policing the Islamic world. I had got up in the morning and by the time I was ready for bed it was a different planet—the world doesn’t change in front of your eyes; it changes behind your back.

Evidence was the name we gave to what we had, but what about the things we hadn’t found? Sometimes, the things that were missing were of far greater importance.

Life was duty. Like any soldier going into battle, I thought of the conflict that lay ahead. To be honest, I didn’t hope for success or glory. I just hoped that I would acquit myself with honor and courage.

But as people say—are you gonna curse the darkness or light a candle? So let me ask you again—what are you going to do about it?”

“Still, it’s been a rewarding life compared to a lot of men. But you’d be a fool not to think—has anything I’ve done really made a difference?

It wasn’t salvation he was starting to taste on his lips. It was revenge.