By all accounts events in Africa were moving quickly, and with total disregard for MI5’s attempts to slow them down. Ian Smith had been branded a ‘raw colonial’ by Whitehall. Knox was fairly sure he was actually a despot in training. However, he couldn’t help but be a little impressed by this farmer-turned-prime-minister’s gall. Smith hadn’t liked the caveats his old imperial overlord had attached to the freedom it wanted to hand down, so he’d gone ahead and claimed his own. He was determined to maintain white minority rule, and had refused to back down in the face of economic sanctions and inter­national condemnation. Of course, Knox was also convinced the whole thing would end badly. Nation-building took more than sheer force of will, it needed patience, an ability to compromise, and powerful allies, none of which Smith had.

At eleven thirty, just as Knox had finally run out of distractions and was getting ready to head to Regent’s Park, there was a knock at his door.

‘Come in,’ he said, trying not to sound too short as he glanced at his watch.

Laing stepped into the room, looking more anxious than Knox thought a human could.

‘Sir,’ he said. ‘There’s a serious problem with the summit.’

Knox looked at his watch again. He could spare five minutes. ‘What is it?’

‘He wants to go to the ballet.’

It took all of Knox’s professional composure not to burst out laughing.

‘Who?’ he asked, struggling to keep his own voice level.

‘Kosygin. He’s found out Nureyev is dancing with the Royal Ballet and he wants to see it.’

‘That doesn’t sound so terrible,’ Knox said, stepping out from behind his desk.

‘I’ve spoken to the Opera House,’ Laing replied. The performance is being broadcast live on the BBC.’

Laing’s concerns now made a little more sense to Knox, but he still thought he was overreacting.

‘I imagine they’ll be filming the dancers rather than the audience,’ Knox said as he slipped on his jacket.

‘But what if someone makes an attempt on him and it ends up on national television?’

‘No one wants to assassinate Kosygin except maybe Brezhnev,’ Knox replied. ‘And there’s nothing we can do about that. He’s the first Soviet leader whose been anything like close to open with the West. London is probably the safest place he could be.’

‘That’s exactly why someone would choose here to get rid of him,’ Laing countered.

‘Look,’ Knox said. ‘It’s your job to plan for the worst-case scenario, and you’re doing a very good job of that. But you need to draw the line at paranoia. I’m not prepared to tell the Russians we can’t protect one of their heads of state for an evening.’