Sonia clutched a clipboard to her breast and looked tense. She shut the door behind her. ‘He’s gone,’ she said.

Charles hesitated. ‘How do you know?’

‘His wife rang in this morning.’

‘Wait a minute. Who’s gone?’

‘Gareth, Gareth Horley. Whom d’you think I meant?’ She sat. ‘Missing, I mean. Gone missing. Can’t be found.’

‘Hasn’t turned up for work?’

‘Nor at home. His wife rang in this morning, as I said. He didn’t come home from work last night and she thought there must be some urgent travel he hadn’t told her about – which has happened before, apparently – but when he didn’t turn up this morning or send any messages she rang the office. His assistants say he left yesterday afternoon a bit early for him and without saying where he was going. Security pass records show him swiping out at 4.53. Since then nothing. He’s not answering either his office or his personal mobiles and their location trackers are switched off. Nor is he responding to emails. Suzanne, his wife – I haven’t spoken to her myself – is desperate, apparently. Fears he may have thrown himself into the Thames. She says he’s been anxious and tense recently, uncommunicative.’

Charles glanced towards the river. ‘If he’s gone in there it won’t be long before we see him again.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘A river policeman told me that bodies go out with the tide and are brought nine-tenths of the way back by the next incoming tide. So it takes a long time to leave the river.’

Sonia stared. ‘Cool, Charles, bordering on frigid, even by your standards. No matter what he’s done, he was your friend, wasn’t he? Not to mention possible successor.’

‘I’m only saying it because I can’t believe that’s what he’s done. Gareth goes for things, he doesn’t run away from them. If he’s gone into hiding it will be to do something, not to end it all.’

‘Such as?’

‘No idea.’ They both paused. ‘Is his passport . . . ?’

‘In his safe in his office, where he always keeps it in case of urgent travel. Ditto overnight bag with spare clothes, shaving kit and so on. No one’s checked his credit card yet nor got on to Cheltenham to see if they can locate his phones. His car is at home, ditto Suzanne’s.’

‘Alias passports?’

‘He has two, according to Docs & Ids – Documents and Identities. Used to have more, of course, when natural-cover ops were more feasible than now. Ditto driving licences, bank cards and all the other alias paraphernalia. His secretary – sorry, assistant – is searching for them at the moment.’

‘Have you done the submission?’