The Man in the black cashmere coat climbed down. down the steps of his private, six-seater learned 40 and stood for a moment, his breath frosting in the chill morning air. He glanced across the tarmac as a refueling truck rum-bled past. In the distance, two men in yellow were stand-ing, talking, in front of a , he seemed to be alone. Ahead of him, a him, a sign read Welcome to Lon-don's leading City Airport, and beneath it, completly unaware that he was being watched every step of the way. The man was in hiis figties, bald and expressionless. Inside the terminal, he gave his passport to the official and watched with blank eyes as it was examined and handed back, then continued on his way. He had no lug-gage. there was black limousine waiting him out-side with a gray-suited chauffeur behind the wheel. The