‘But there should be. There are boxes for it, aren’t there? Doesn’t anyone check?’ In paper-file days there were registries staffed by middle-aged women who had seen everything in their time and were unafraid to badger officers, no matter how senior, who neglected their files. ‘How has Gareth been able to buck the system?’

‘By being so senior. He’s in charge of all operations, what he says goes, what he does goes. It would be just the same if it were you getting – or claiming to get – intelligence from an old friend. No one would query how you reported it simply because you’re the chief. I think you sometimes overlook that.’

Charles found his coffee cup empty again. She shook her head at his offer of more and he poured the dregs for himself. ‘You say “claiming” to get intelligence. Are you implying that you think he’s making it up?’

‘Not quite. There’s no evidence that he is. It all chimes with FCO and other reporting and with what eventually comes out in the media. My worry is whether most of it really counts as intelligence. It certainly counts in our report production figures – he’s counted all his memos as five-star reports.’

That was not a surprise. Gareth had a history of playing the numbers game. In both the overseas stations he headed before promotion to management in London he had energetically boosted the station’s reporting figures, quietly getting rid of officers who failed to produce. Charles had known this when promoting him but the results had justified Gareth’s ambition and self-promotion. Charles had failed to play the numbers game when heading a station, arguing that quality was more important than quantity, that a single report that changed government policy or saved billions was worth more than hundreds that did no more than contribute to existing thinking. Right but naïve, he came to realise, suspecting that his strategy had contributed to his own early retirement some years before under the newly outsourced HR regime.

‘But this latest report surely counts as intelligence,’ he said. ‘I mean, you can’t say that advance knowledge of the EU bottom line isn’t hugely significant?’

‘Of course it is. It’s intended to be.’ She looked out across the valley. ‘You chose well, coming here.’

‘It’s really Sarah’s. She chose well.’

She looked back. ‘My worry is that Gareth might be a fabricator.’

This was perhaps the second most serious charge that could be laid, after the betrayal of agent identities, the sin against the Holy Ghost of espionage. Its consequences, political and other, were inevitably serious and long-lasting, a devaluation of the intelligence currency. ‘I’ll make some more coffee,’ said Charles.