I nodded and squeezed past them all, then followed the two soldiers back down the corridor while a tumult of voices rose in my wake.

‘Goddammit,’ I heard Greenbrooke yell, ‘we need more men like Casey Vishnevsky. Real Americans.’

‘He’s Australian, you dumb piece of shit,’ I heard Bramnik bellow in response. ‘This project’s still under my control – can’t you get that through your thick goddam skull?’

The two soldiers escorting me came to a sudden halt just outside the entrance to the cell block, barring my way. I gave them a questioning look until one of them put a finger to his lips and nodded back the way we had come. It took me a moment to realize they wanted to hear what was said.

‘So how many failed missions have you had?’ I heard Greenbrooke shout in response. ‘How many accidents? Keep going the way you are, this whole project’s going to wind up in Patriot hands regardless, and the sooner the better, unless you start running a tighter ship and find some way to control your subversive elements!’

I caught the eye of one of the soldiers. ‘Who is that guy?’ I asked him, keeping my voice low. ‘Greenbrooke, I mean.’

‘Trouble,’ the soldier replied. ‘That’s all you need to know.’

I heard a door slam, and the soldiers suddenly sprang back into action, briskly guiding me around a corner and into the police station’s foyer.

Barely a second after I had sat down on a bench, Greenbrooke came charging out of the cell block, striding past without paying me the slightest heed. I watched as he continued straight out through the front entrance, his fellow Patriot agent hurrying to keep up.

Bramnik and his own companion were next to emerge, talking quietly with each other. ‘You two wait for me outside,’ Bramnik said to the two soldiers. They saluted and left. ‘Kip, I’ll be right out.’

Kip nodded and headed out into the sunshine. I remembered Nadia telling me Bramnik’s second-in-command was named Kip Mayer.

‘Some advice,’ Bramnik said to me once we were alone. ‘I like Nadia a lot. But she tends to be . . .’ He waggled a hand in the air. ‘. . . a little strong-willed at times – put it that way.’

I nodded, unsure what to say.

Bramnik took a seat beside me on the bench, legs splayed and hands locked together before him. ‘Just do us all a favour the next time anything like this happens while you’re around, and see if you can talk her out of making a bad situation worse. That’s all I ask.’

I looked round at him. ‘Mind if I ask you something?’

‘Shoot.’

‘Has anyone – I mean, any of the Pathfinders – been sent back to where they came from for screwing up? Has that ever happened?’

A furrow formed between Bramnik’s eyebrows. ‘Did Greenbrooke make some kind of threat?’