Still, it seemed that, as far as he was concerned, she could do no wrong. Finally, her earlier idea of gathering intelligence from social media surveillance was being implemented across various departments, and was fast becoming a technique instrumental in infiltrating terrorist cells as well as organised criminal gangs. Emsworth had not directly credited her for the idea yet, but he had made it plain that there would be something substantial coming her way as a reward for her commitment, a more permanent placement, he implied – maybe even Washington or Paris – something that would give her the option to start a new life, a life full of the excitement and adventure she craved.

Although perhaps she would be offered a role she’d never even considered, and she would be open to that too. After some of the cases she had seen evolving in Moscow, even if only from a distance, she had her sights set on Human Rights, which would mean making her way into the department of Multilateral Policy. But things might change and that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing either. So long as there was enough progress that she could feel the movement towards where she needed to be, then she would be happy to work her way up. She was willing to do whatever it took. And he knew it as well as she did.

‘I’m expecting big things from you,’ Emsworth said one day. ‘Just as soon as the right opening comes up, I think you’re ready for the next step.’

She had blushed at that, and yet the praise felt deserved. If her role at the embassy in Moscow was a delicate balance of innovation, deference and being able to hold her drink (and her tongue) through an endless roll-call of dinner parties designed to test and ingratiate, on both sides, then in every sense she had excelled. The reports from her seniors at the embassy had been nothing but glowing. The Russians liked her was the overall feedback. They trusted her – and eliciting trust was the name of the game.

In response, over the coming weeks Emsworth amped up her responsibilities, at least unofficially. One afternoon when everyone but she and Johnny, the sharp-elbowed policy support officer who had come up on the same fast-streaming round as she had, were out at lunch, Emsworth came to her desk. She was in the middle of several tasks and struggling to keep pace but nevertheless she stopped what she was doing as he approached.

‘Are you busy?’ he asked, without waiting for an answer. ‘I need a couple of files pulled out. It’s a bit of a sensitive one, I need someone I can trust to do a good job.’