‘And, no doubt, they’re in a hurry.’

‘Yes. There was one other thing. He offered what he called a parting gift. He says the GRU has been planning a coup in Estonia, which is now imminent. The Night Wolves have bought a farm just outside Narva and stored enough weapons there to start a small war. The Kremlin will create some kind of crisis involving the Russian minority and the Night Wolves will come to their aid.’

‘And the Center Party will call for Moscow to intervene,’ Sir Alan said, tapping his glasses against his leg again. Kate noticed some dark stubble beneath both sides of his chin, missed with careless shaving. It was most unlike him.

‘We think we’ve probably found the farm. It’s on PCR2.’

Sir Alan got up and went to his desk. Ian and Kate stood behind him as he put on his glasses and looked at the satellite feeds. ‘The place by the beach on the right is where we think some of them are staying. If you close in, you can see the rear wheels of a line of motorbikes.’

‘How long have the CIA got?’ Sir Alan asked.

‘Only a week. No movement in or out in that time. But it rained heavily nine days ago, so those tyre tracks outside the barn have been made since then.’

Sir Alan closed the feed and led them back to sit in the corner. He took a sip of his whisky and swirled the ice around in his glass.

Ian jumped into the silence, as was also his style. ‘I’m suspicious,’ he said. ‘That’s my first reaction, I’m afraid.’

Kate resisted the temptation to point out that he was always suspicious of anything he hadn’t originated. Sir Alan continued to stare into his glass.

‘I don’t think this needs to take all night,’ Ian went on, which invariably meant he had a dinner to attend, or an assignation, or both. ‘We can monitor the situation in Estonia to see how it develops, but we shouldn’t – couldn’t – accept their offer to defect.’ He looked at his superior. ‘I’m sure you agree, Alan.’ It wasn’t a question.

‘And why would you think that?’

Ian made a show of appearing incredulous. ‘Because it smacks of a well-organized disinformation plot designed to take us for fools. They know Kate is in a vulnerable state—’

‘Come on, Ian,’ Kate said. She had not expected his assault on her to be quite so obvious.

‘Withdraw that,’ Sir Alan instructed him. ‘And apologize, please.’

‘All right, I’m sorry,’ Ian said easily, without bothering to look at her or sound as if he meant it. He ran his hand languorously through his hair. ‘But the stakes are damned high here. Just imagine if the PM gets wind of the fact that we’re taking this seriously. He is the prime minister, after all, and likely to remain so, unless I’m missing something. The damage that could be done – the havoc he could wreak – on our organization might be terminal.’