In his own operational career Charles, like Gareth, had taken risks, occasionally physical but more often bureaucratic, choosing to economise with the truth until the time was right for disclosure. But now he meant what he said about the risk to the Service, possibly a terminal risk. He didn’t mind being the MI6 chief who was sacked but he didn’t want to be the last chief. Every government needed a security service, an MI5, in some form, even as part of the police, but by no means every government needed or had a secret service. That depended on having a forward foreign policy, a perception that the national interest needed protecting and advancing. After years of emasculation, that was no longer an automatic assumption. ‘Sorry, Gareth, but we must go for it. It will mean coming clean about what’s going on. When’s your next meeting with Timber Wolf?’

‘Sixth of next month.’

‘That should give us time. I’ll talk to Robin Woodstock before going into print. He might give a helpful steer if the shock doesn’t kill him. Meanwhile, no contact with Timber Wolf until we’ve sorted this out.’

‘Fair enough.’

Gareth stood. Charles had not expected him to concede so easily. He stood too.

‘Tell me something,’ said Gareth. ‘Is Sonia behind this?’

‘No.’

There was another pause as they faced each other, then Gareth put down his empty glass and walked out.

Charles remained as he was for a moment or two then, still holding his untouched whisky, returned to his desk and reached for his phone. It rang before he picked it up.

‘Oh, you are still there. Thank goodness I’ve got you,’ said Sarah. ‘I’m still here – at work – too but I’ve just had a call from Anya, Akela’s sister, remember? She wants to come and see us this evening. It concerns Daniel but she didn’t want to talk about it on the phone. I told her I’d be back by about eight-thirty but now I’m not sure I’ll be on time. Will you be back by then?’

‘I can be.’

‘Have you done that note for Michael Dunton’s MI5 desk officer?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Sounds as if there might be more to add.’

Before he left Charles emailed Robin Woodstock in the Foreign Office requesting a meeting the following morning. As he walked home across Smith Square, where concertgoers were crowding on the steps of St John’s, his mind was not so much on the clearance he believed they would never get as on Gareth’s account of Timber Wolf’s motives. Agents who were indiscreet because of friendship, trust and goodwill were generally not venal, unlikely to accept unquestioned money for expenses they knew they hadn’t incurred. And, generous though the expenses were, they were nothing to what Timber Wolf earned.