‘I mean I have very long-standing contacts in GCHQ who trust me when I say authorisation is on its way. As it will be this afternoon, when I tell Ian you’d like it done.’

Charles could hear the smile in Sonia’s voice. ‘We haven’t had this conversation. And of course we’ll have to not have another one as soon as you hear that Gareth has fixed a date.’

‘Which he may already have done. Gareth got back to him just before your meeting, this time by WhatsApp, which is encrypted, as perhaps even you know, Charles? And to get into that – if they can – is a whole new cryptographic ball game that I don’t like to even ask them about. You know how Cheltenham keep that sort of thing very close to their chests. Don’t want to use up my credit if it’s not going to work. So, the chances are that Gareth’s made a date but we don’t know when.’

Charles replaced the receiver and stood for a while staring at the face of the Cumming clock. A plain face, clear Roman numerals, no twirls or embellishments, an open honest face, as honest as its maker.

The news surprised and disappointed him. For Gareth to cut operational corners was one thing, being lured into exaggeration by his own enthusiasm and ambition was another and calling agent payments expenses was a third: culpable faults all, but faults committed – as Churchill had put it – facing the enemy, trying to do the job, not running away from it. Faults worthy of censure, though ultimately forgivable. But to have arranged a meeting with Timber Wolf after Charles forbade it was deliberate deceit. It was personal, too. Charles felt let down. Gareth could have told him about the call; they would have considered what to do, Charles might have said go ahead but go carefully, then tried to cover his back by seeking Robin Woodstock’s retrospective agreement. This was a betrayal, an unnecessary betrayal, as unnecessary as it was puzzling. Puzzling because Gareth wouldn’t be able to report anything of the meeting without confessing he’d had it. So what could he hope to gain?

Chapter Seven

‘The Tresco sub has been bounced back,’ said Jenny. ‘Our lawyers are happy with it but the Foreign Office lawyers want some changes. Our lawyers want to know if they have your support in resisting.’

‘What kind of changes?’

‘Something to do with ID verification. They’re putting it in an email, which you haven’t got yet because they’re waiting to see whether MOD lawyers agree with them.’

‘How many lawyers does it take to kill a terrorist?’

‘About a dozen and rising.’

‘Just as well I’m married to only one.’ He asked her to check dates for directors’ availability for a board awayday at the Castle, the south-coast training establishment.