When the door was closed and his footsteps had receded along Cowley Street, Sarah said, ‘I knew it. I knew this would be a mess. We should never have got involved.’

‘We didn’t choose to be.’

‘We didn’t have to report what Anya told us. We could have just left it if there was an innocent explanation, as we now know there was. I wish I’d never spoken to that MI5 woman. Deborah’s going to tear her hair out if – when – it gets back to her. D’you think they’ll find out that we’ve been reporting?’

‘There’s no reason they should. Anyway, that’s probably what Anya expected when she told us.’ He was less sure about MI5 than he sounded. They should have informed him and Sarah before acting on their information.

‘I’m inclined to ring that MI5 girl and give her a piece of my mind.’

‘It’s probably nothing to do with her, out of her hands. I’ll ring Michael Dunton.’

Michael, whom Charles rang at home, knew nothing about the police operation and promised to call back. He did so about forty minutes later. ‘Apologies, Charles, apologies to you both. You’re quite right that you should have been told. So should we. I’ve spoken to the head of SO15, the Met counter-terrorism bit, what we used to call Special Branch, and he didn’t know about it either. It appears the decision was taken at lower level by a district commander without reference to anyone else. It’s one of the drawbacks – one of not very many, I should say – of having the police embedded in our own CT section. Occasionally, one of them gets the bit between his teeth and charges off, thinking he’s only doing what everyone wants. Generally, it’s not like that – embedding works well to everyone’s benefit – but this is one of the exceptions. I’m sorry. Please convey sincere apologies to Sarah. Apparently, they didn’t find anything incriminating in the house search, though I think they took most of the cutlery drawer away. Can’t think what good that will do them.’

‘Daniel left here a while ago to hand himself in. At least, I think that’s what he’s doing. I’ve told him there’s nothing to fear from talking to them.’

‘Good. Let’s hope he gets his knives and forks back.’

Chapter Ten

Robin Woodstock rested his elbows on his desk and put his two hands before him, palms together. He looked out of his window at St James’s Park. The early-morning rain had eased but the plane trees still dripped and the runners skirted puddles. He looked back at Charles. ‘Let me make sure I’ve got this straight before we talk to the foreign secretary. If we do.