It was a grey drizzly day and while being relieved of his coat and umbrella he had time to identify Timber Wolf. It was not difficult; from Gareth’s notes and from open sources researched by Sonia he knew to look for a big, heavily-built man, getting on for six and a half feet tall with long sloping shoulders, wide hips, massive haunches, spade-like hands bristling with red hair and a belly betokening many Brussels lunches. He saw now that his head was enormous, his auburn hair greying and thinning. His face was round and flat, good-natured, creased with laughter-lines. Ears, lips, nose and eyebrows were all prominent but his grey-green eyes seemed disproportionately small despite magnification by heavy, black-framed glasses. Charles approached without waiting for the waiter. ‘Mr Rutte?’

The bushy eyebrows arched above the glasses. ‘Eddie Rutte, yes.’

‘I’m Charles Thoroughgood. I work with Gareth. At the last minute today he was unable to make it and asked me to come in his place, since you had indicated you had something special to discuss.’ He held out his hand. Timber Wolf half rose from his chair as they shook, enveloping Charles’s hand firmly and warmly. Charles pulled back the empty chair and went to sit, inadvertently initiating a brief comedy as they each bobbed the same way to avoid the other. They both smiled.

‘Gareth is okay, I hope? Nothing has happened to him?’

‘No, no, he’s fine. He sends best wishes and regrets. He has to cope with an operational emergency in the Far East – you know he oversees operations worldwide? – which calls for urgent decisions and delicate negotiations with ministers. He’ll be in touch to arrange another meeting soon but meanwhile was anxious not to put you off since your business sounded urgent, too. He asked me to pass on love to Anne-Marie from him and Suzanne and their best wishes for a speedy recovery.’ Sonia had discovered that Timber Wolf’s wife had recently had a knee operation.

‘That’s kind of him. Please say that she is walking normally and already looking forward to skiing in the New Year. Perhaps this time Gareth and Suzanne will be able to join us?’

They were interrupted by the arrival of menus and water. Charles sensed the rapid working of Timber Wolf’s mind behind the benign features and clever little green eyes. He had done well to conceal what must have been a shock and would now be asking himself whether the reason given for Gareth’s non-appearance was genuine, whether Charles could be trusted, whether he should tell him what he had wanted to tell Gareth so urgently, perhaps even whether Charles would pay him as Gareth had.

‘Gareth and I usually share a lunchtime bottle,’ said Timber Wolf. ‘Will you . . . ?’