By the time the man left and Bourne and Ridgeway had worked out the considerable profit they could make on the painting, it was close to one thirty. They decided they would close the gallery until three o’clock and have a decent lunch. Their plans were thwarted by a rapping at the steel-reinforced door that led on to the alley at the back of the gallery. Bourne peered through the security glass and it took him a moment to realise that the man in the bowler hat with a scarf wrapped round the lower half of his face was the Admiral.

He stepped back in shock: it went without saying that the Admiral had not been expected. In fact he hadn’t visited the gallery since before the war. After his release from internment two years earlier, he’d rarely left his home in the country, and had even given up his rooms in London.

Bourne opened the door a few inches.

‘I walked past the front and saw that the gallery was open. Is anyone else in there?’

‘Just Ridgeway and myself, sir.’

‘Close the gallery and let me in.’

Once inside the cramped office, the Admiral removed his hat and unfurled his scarf. He took the seat behind Bourne’s desk, still wearing his overcoat, though he did unbutton it. Only when he’d removed his leather gloves did he look up at the two men standing obediently in front of him.

‘We may have a problem, gentlemen.’

Bourne and Ridgeway looked anxiously at each other, unsure whether to remain standing or to sit down.

‘May I ask the nature of that problem, Admiral?’

‘The messages one gets from the Continent are of course by definition sporadic and often imprecise.’ He paused to straighten his gloves. ‘But there would appear to be two developments, both of which are a cause for concern. Why don’t you sit down?’

He waited for Bourne and Ridgeway to arrange their chairs in front of the desk.

‘Wolfgang has disappeared and there are reports that he may now be in East Berlin.’

‘The Soviet sector?’

‘Obviously, Ridgeway – but remember, this isn’t confirmed. If it is true, I have absolutely no idea why he’s there or how the hell he got there, but I do know that he’s not been heard from in a while. And the news from Trieste is even more confusing. The ship is still in port, but according to its master the passengers have moved from the warehouse to another location and he’s getting very nervous. He was meant to sail tomorrow and he’s now agreed to wait until Monday, but no later than that. I’m suspicious about the whole business…’

‘What about Palmer?’

‘Exactly, Bourne – what about Palmer indeed? It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if we’re in the process of being outsmarted by that menace Prince and the bloody Danish woman. If they catch Palmer, I don’t trust him to keep quiet, and that means all of us are in serious trouble. I knew we should have got rid of him as soon as he turned up out of the blue in August. I regret letting Myrtle talk me out of it. One can only hope she knows what to do if they’re in danger of being caught.’