‘Not as often, no. The one angle we have is ego. They might get carried away with their own brilliance and become complacent. The question is, how do we make them do that?’

Jameson thought for a moment. ‘We make them think they’re winning. They need to believe that we have nothing and know nothing because they’re simply too clever. It’s a Romanova play.’

‘Romanova?’

‘It’s what we called an operation in MI6 that required psychological manipulation. It’s from the Black Widow. The Marvel comics? Natasha Romanova? Have you seen that scene in The Avengers where she’s tied to a chair being interrogated, but in fact she’s interrogating them? I can see from the look on your face that you haven’t, but you get the gist.’

Bloom did get the gist, but until they knew who was masterminding the game, tactics were worthless.

30

In Yorkshire, Stuart Rose-Butler – or Stuart Lord as he now preferred to be known – walked out of Leeds train station and towards Park Square in the city’s financial district.

The streets surrounding the park were silent apart from the occasional passing car and, when he reached it, the park was empty. There were Georgian buildings on either side, all with large windows and grand doorways. Most were occupied by firms of solicitors or barristers’ chambers. Stuart checked the message again.

We are very impressed. Meet me in Park Square, Leeds, tomorrow at 1.30pm.

And that was it. No name. No description. Stuart looked at his watch: 1.28pm. He took a seat on a bench and waited.

Exactly two minutes later, a tall man, thin and olive-skinned, strolled into the park. Stuart recognized him immediately. He stood as the man approached him.

‘Good afternoon, Sir.’ The man held his hand out and his shake was so firm as to be painful. ‘Sebastian Forbes.’

Sebastian wore a tweed jacket and a navy tie with what looked to be a diamond-encrusted tie pin. Stuart was glad he was wearing his new Armani suit. ‘Good afternoon,’ said Stuart, making his accent as refined as possible. Sebastian no doubt knew his history, but things had moved on and he wanted them to see it.

‘And by what name shall I address you?’

Stuart had been instructed to change his identity several challenges back. He had thought long and hard about his new name. ‘Stuart Lord.’

‘From a Butler to a Lord. Very good. Please, come with me, Mr Lord. There are some people keen to meet you.’

Sebastian Forbes led Stuart to a building a few roads away. There were no signs outside and no doorbell, just a shiny black door. Forbes knocked firmly, just once, and waited. A second or two later the door opened on an automatic hinge. The two men entered an elaborate hallway. The tiled floor led to a wide staircase and, as the door closed behind them, Stuart could hear voices coming from upstairs.