Inside RAF Chicksands – the HQ of the British Army’s Intelligence Corps – was Cuckoo’s office, and inside the office was Cuckoo, or Alan Roberts as most people knew him, who right now was staring intently at a computer monitor but not really seeing what was on the screen. Looking but not seeing. Waiting, in fact, for a knock at the door.

There came a knock at the door.

‘Sir? You wanted to see me, sir?’

The guy’s name was Johnny. A member of Chicksands’ human resources department. Cuckoo had never knowingly clapped eyes on Johnny until this very moment, his only contact with human resources having been with the department head when making new appointments, such was Cuckoo’s exalted position in the operation. Now, however, he directed the HR guy – age? What? Mid-thirties? – to take a seat and let the silence between them settle and marinate, regarding Johnny, who looked back nervously.

‘Is this a human resources matter, sir?’ enquired Johnny meekly.

‘Not really,’ Cuckoo shook his head. ‘This is a matter more, well . . .’ He looked away. ‘For the moment, let’s just say this is a matter that should stay between you and I. Something to do with extracurricular activity.’

‘Sir?’

Cuckoo leaned forward. ‘You’ve been nosing around on the network.’

‘Have I, sir?’

‘Indeed. Your terminal has been used for searches on the system. Searches conducted when you, and you alone, were using it. They were unauthorised searches and you made them in an attempt to find military intelligence on a high-ranking civilian family.’ He paused, enjoying the queasy look that had taken Johnny’s face hostage. ‘Now, why would you want to be doing that?’

‘I don’t think I understand, sir,’ stuttered Johnny.

Abbott would not have recognised Cuckoo now – Cuckoo, the man who roared, ‘Do not lie to me, son. You’re not at fucking school here. I’m not playing games. I want to know why you were making those searches.’

Johnny withered. ‘I was making them on behalf of somebody else, sir.’

‘Who?’

‘I’d rather not say, sir.’

Cuckoo did a bit more shouting, but this time, although he cringed away slightly, Johnny didn’t completely crumble. Almost, but not quite. He took a large gulp of air, straightening his shoulders as though to give himself strength. ‘Respectfully, sir, I will need to speak to my supervisor regarding your request.’

This, thought Cuckoo sourly, was what you got for trying to turn the thumbscrews on a member of the human resources department. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I would expect nothing less. But I want to see you back here this time tomorrow – with an answer. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Chapter 44

CHAPTER 44