Chapter Six: Saturday AMTo my surprise, but fortunately not to my humiliation, Razin was outside the Russian Consulate at the same time on Saturday morning as he had been on every morning for the last five, only this time he turned right instead of left towards the underground station. He wore the same unmistakable coat with the fur collar turned up and as a further precaution against the bitter north wind, a beige woollen beanie hat. I had covered my back by having as many operatives as I could on the street if he did show, but as the Silver Vaults in Chancery Lane were closed I had concentrated what I had nearer Notting Hill Gate. The only intelligence we had from the vaults was the name of the man Razin always contacted, and the fact that he always carried away four unfolded envelopes i
