“Exactly.”

The two women took off the bras they were wearing and stood side by side in front of the mirror. “You see?” said Florence. “They’ve lost that sit-up-and-beg look.”

“Mine, too.”

There was a time, Maria reflected, when she would have been too embarrassed to do this with a white woman. Maybe things really were changing.

They started to try on the bras. Maria said: “Has Casey briefed the intelligence committees?”

“No. Reagan decided he could just inform the chair and vice chair of each committee, and the Republican and Democratic leaders of the House and Senate.”

That explained why George Jakes had not heard about this, Maria deduced. Reagan had made a sly move. The intelligence committees had a quota of liberals, to ensure that at least some critical questions were asked. Reagan had found a way to sideline the critics and inform only those he knew would be supportive.

Florence said: “One of the teams is here in the States right now, on a two-week training course.”

“So the whole thing is quite far advanced.”

“Right.” Florence looked at herself in a black bra. “My Frank is pleased that my bust has changed. He always wanted a wife with big tits. He claims he’s going to church to thank God.”

Maria laughed. “You have a nice husband. I hope he likes your new bras.”

“And what about you? Who will appreciate your underwear?”

“You know me, I’m a career girl.”

“Were you always?”

“There was a guy, a long time ago, but he died.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“And no one else since?”

She hardly hesitated. “One near miss. You know, I like men, and I like sex, but I’m not prepared to give up my whole life and become an appendage to some guy. Your Frank obviously understands that, but not many men do.”

Florence nodded. “Honey, you got that right.”

Maria frowned. “What do you want me to do about these murder squads?” The thought occurred to her that Florence was a secret agent, after all, and she might have found out, or guessed, that Maria had leaked stories to Jasper Murray. Did she want Maria to leak this one?

But Florence said: “I don’t want you to do anything, right now. The plan is still a stupid idea that may be nipped in the bud. I just want to be sure that someone outside the intelligence community knows about it. If the shit hits the fan, and Reagan starts lying about murder the way Nixon lied about burglary, at least you will know the truth.”

“Meanwhile, we just pray that it never happens.”

“Amen.”

• • •

“We’ve selected our first target,” said Tim Tedder to Cam. “We’re going for the big guy.”

“Fadlallah?”

“Himself.”

Cam nodded. Muhammad Hussein Fadlallah was a leading Muslim scholar and a grand ayatollah. In his sermons he called for armed resistance to the Israeli occupation of Lebanon. Hezbollah said he was their inspiration, no more, but the CIA was convinced he was the mastermind behind the kidnapping campaign. Cam would be glad to see him dead.