The two-bedroomed safehouse apartment was small and dank, with a sparsely furnished living room in which the men gathered for a briefing with Goffin. Ben had never much cared for intelligence operatives and maybe he was prejudiced, but right from the start he found it difficult to like the man. Speaking with a plummy Etonian accent and sprawled casually taking up most of the living room’s only sofa, Goffin was loud, opinionated and annoying. He explained that while the task force had been en route, the situation had changed. The sudden emergence of a local informer, a man Goffin called Faazel, who claimed to have knowledge of the whereabouts of Spartan, meant that the mission was now due to start immediately, that same afternoon.

Goffin gave them the address in another district of Kabul where Faazel had agreed to meet and provide his information. For a steep price, of course, but he claimed to have all the necessary funds at his disposal. ‘I’ll be right there with you boys,’ he said with a smile that came across, at least to Ben, as a condescending kind of sneer. ‘All you have to do is get me inside so I can speak with him. Should be a pretty straightforward operation. Any questions?’

Ben had been standing at the back of the room, listening in silence and finding it harder and harder to digest the vagueness of their strategy. As an officer he’d always insisted on knowing every last detail of a situation, as far as possible, before going in. The safety of his men had depended on it. But here they were, expected to function in the dark, at the whim of this supercilious intelligence goon. He had a thousand questions, but deciding to focus on the main one he asked Goffin, ‘Who’s Spartan?’

Goffin’s smile went cold and he replied, ‘That’s classified. I thought that fact had already been made clear to you.’

‘It has,’ Buchanan said, with a warning look at Ben. ‘Anyone else got a question?’

Catching and ignoring Buchanan’s look, Ben pressed on, ‘All the same, for practicality’s sake, we should be informed. We’ll soon find out anyway, if we locate him. Or her, or it, or whatever exactly the objective is.’

‘When we find him,’ Goffin said. ‘There are no ifs. Failure is not an option here.’

‘So it’s a him,’ Ben said. ‘Thanks. At least now we know something.’

‘You let me worry about these kinds of details, Trooper,’ Goffin said icily. ‘Right now, I repeat, for the second time, it’s not your concern. Just do your job. Which means, do as I suggest and as your commander tells you. Do you have a problem with that?’