It was dark in here: it seemed to be some sort of office-cum-storeroom, with filing cabinets and shelves of medical supplies. I mustered all the concentration I could to follow his arm as he dropped to his knees and placed the rifle on the floor.

‘When did you find out?’ said Pritchard, standing again, still affecting the absurdly casual tone, as though I’d walked in on him searching my drawers or reading my diary rather than preparing to shoot the prime minister.

‘Just now,’ I replied. ‘Manning mentioned you were related to the Queen, and I wondered why I’d never heard that before. Where’s Anna?’

Pritchard looked at me for a moment, then tipped his head back and gave a slightly deranged laugh. ‘Oh, Paul!’ he said when he’d managed to pull himself together. ‘I thought you’d got a little further than that.’ He adjusted his spectacles primly. ‘Anna’s dead.’

Something broke inside me. I don’t know why, as it was what I had believed for nearly twenty-five years. But I had wanted to see her, just one more time. To hear her voice, just one more time.

‘The photograph,’ I said with the part of my brain that wanted all the details accounted for. ‘In the marketplace . . .’

‘Faked,’ said Pritchard. ‘Rather a good job, considering the time we had to put it together.’

‘So Geoffrey is working for you?’

‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘He’s not aware of the full ramifications, one might say.’

‘Did you kill her?’

He dipped his head. ‘In ’45? No, that was also faked. Sorry, old boy. Anna changed her name and moved to Tunisia, where she died in ’57. Lung cancer. Those unfiltered cigarettes she liked, do you remember?’

I remembered. ‘So you and she . . .?’

He nodded. ‘Always. Yes, I was her one true love.’ He saw the look on my face. ‘You’re lost, I know. I have a lot I need to tell you.’

I leaned against the wall. ‘You can start with this’ - I gestured at the rifle. ‘Why kill Wilson? And why send a plant to London?’

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t send Slavin. Do you think I’d have given him my code-name?’

‘What then?’

‘Think, Paul. I’m no sniper - the chap you strangled on the golf course was meant to do the job. So why did I fly out here?’

‘To protect yourself,’ I guessed. ‘To make sure Slavin didn’t have anything else that could point to you being Radnya.’ But even as I said it I knew I was wrong.

‘To protect us,’ he said.

So he knew about me. All right. Let that sink in for a moment.

‘Slavin didn’t know the double’s name,’ I said. ‘So that meant either one of us could be blown.’