The Hour Before Midnight [antikvár]

PROLOGUEAt 6.15 on a cloudless morning in the early summer of 1981 a man emerged from a house in Chester Place, Regent's Park. Closing the front door quietly behind himhis family was still asleephe paused for a moment, warily.It was a handsome, cream-washed Regency house of five floors, built in 1826 according to a design by John Nash, and adorned by plain Tuscan pilasters. Eight years ago, when this man's income had suddenly spiralled, he had paid L53,000 for a sixty-year lease: the Crown Commissioners granted no freeholds in this exclusive enclave of central London.It was a pleasant place to live. But recently it had become less pleasant.Wearing an old Achilles Club tracksuit and well-worn Adidas training shoes, Ellison broke into a fast trot, heading for the park. As he crossed the Outer Circle he shot a quick glance to his left.The four men in the black Mercedes 450 SEL watched him disappear through the park gate.Lengthening his stride and tracking round the northern rim of the Inner Circle, Ellison gazed thoughtfully towards the 145-feet-high white minaret of the Central London Mosque, a new L4 mil-