Gareth would be away for another three days. Charles described the case to Sarah over dinner that night, without revealing Timber Wolf’s identity. He trusted her discretion and, being outside the Office but familiar with it, her perspective was useful. Also, she knew Gareth. Her verdict was swift and succinct.

‘You must have it out with Gareth before he sees Timber Wolf again. You must be absolutely straight with him that the meetings must be recorded except that, assuming you want to keep Sonia out of it, you say you’re doing it under pressure from Whitehall. You’ve given them cast-iron guarantees about Timber Wolf’s reports and in so doing you’ve put your own head on the line. You want to be able to tell them that he’s been recorded word for word and you’re satisfied he’s pukka. Gareth can’t reasonably resist a covert recording and if he does you have your answer, don’t you? At least, you’re halfway to it. Also, if I were you I’d be more concerned to please Sonia, given her record and what she did for you, than to avoid offending Gareth. You know what I feel about him. Slimy toad. I hated that weekend we spent with them in Carcassonne, every minute of it. The way he treated Suzanne was so embarrassing, the way he spoke to her, I mean. I couldn’t understand how you’ve been such good friends with him for so long. It’s different between men, I suppose. I wouldn’t trust him an inch.’

Charles was well aware of her feelings about Gareth. ‘He’s good at his job, always has been.’

‘Maybe that says something about the job.’ She smiled and put her hand on his arm. ‘I don’t mean that. Well, only half. I’m sure you’re good at it too and you’re not like Gareth. So far as I know.’

Charles wasn’t so sure. He had always felt that he and Gareth had quite a lot in common, at least in the professional sphere. Their assumptions, judgements and instincts were usually close enough to dispense with explanation, itself suggestive of some deeper commonality that he preferred to leave unexamined, for the time being at least.