‘Benjamin, why the hell are you emailing me at work?’ Christopher listened impatiently to the reply. ‘I don’t give a monkey’s arse. I’ve told you enough times that’s completely out of the question. You, more than anyone, should appreciate what some nerdy little civil servant can do with a computer. Remember that sergeant who retrieved deleted emails from you to some corporal about bending her over your desk?’ He listened again before interrupting. ‘Benji, I’m going to have to wipe my whole hard drive clean. Can you please keep to your side of the bargain?’

Finally Christopher got an apology, and they briefly discussed the meaning of the email. Time was of the essence, but the officer who had led over a thousand men through one of the most brutal campaigns of the whole Afghan war needed bloody reassurance. He was losing his edge.

‘Benji, why are you even asking me this, man? Get a bloody grip. And make sure you tidy up as well.’

But Christopher had noted something else in his friend’s voice.

‘There’s an article about to break in the tabloids,’ the Colonel admitted. ‘It comes out tomorrow. I’ve been accused of raping two female soldiers. One in Bosnia in 1999, and the other in Iraq in 2005.’

‘Christ, man. Can’t you pay someone to shut up?’

‘The wife’s just bought a villa in Barbados, and I’m strapped.’

‘Strapped? What the hell do you do with it all?’

‘I don’t know.’

Christopher did know. The Colonel was an alcoholic, and very generous when intoxicated, which was most of the time.

‘How the hell can you be prosecuted so long after the event? And which publications have got the story? I’ll see if I can have a word with someone my end.’

It was possible to stop stories from going to press, but usually only when a member of the royal family was involved. However, the editor of the Herald was an old pal of Christopher’s, and he’d been obliging in the past.

‘Look, one thing at a time. Get this other business sorted out and let him know. Keep a low profile tomorrow, and for God’s sake, Benji, if you get pissed, don’t talk to the press. It won’t end well.’

The fall of a decorated senior officer was juicy news indeed, and to get it buried would take the pulling of some very long strings. Christopher hung up and shook his head. The Colonel had just ruined a perfectly good day.

Chapter 30