‘Measure the girl’s face, then – just don’t tell her why you’re doing it. Tell her it’s a health check or something. And don’t tell her about her father, not yet. If it’s all the same to you, I need some fresh air – so I’m going for a walk to clear my head.’

*

Wilde strode out into the brisk morning air. The sky was overcast again, threatening rain or even snow. When he reached the corner of the street, he glanced back to see if anyone was following him.

Well, the scales had fallen from his eyes all right. Klara was to be thrown to the wolves, and he, Wilde, was the only adult in her world who thought that might not be a good idea.

It was a working day, a Tuesday, and the village was coming to life. He wandered past the pub, the Cock Inn, and noticed a telephone kiosk. He looked around again, stepped inside, put coins in the box and called home.

‘Lydia?’

‘Tom, darling – where are you?’

‘I’m nearby. Village of Harkham. I haven’t got long – so listen to me. Pack small bags for you and Johnny – toothbrushes, nappies – along with a basket of food. Tell Doris to stay away until further notice – then lock up Cornflowers and drive over here, to Harkham. Park in the little road to the side of the pub. There’s only one pub, the Cock Inn. Wait for me. I can’t tell you how long I’ll be. Make sure the tank’s full, and don’t breathe a word to anyone. Please, trust me on this.’

‘That’s a lot to take in.’

‘My money’s about to run out. Try to think of somewhere safe. Not relatives – too easily traced. Can you do that for me, Lydia?’

The coins ran out before she could reply. He replaced the phone and slipped out of the kiosk.

*

They were still there when Wilde returned. Bromley was measuring Klara’s nose with the calipers. She looked close to tears. Eaton shifted uneasily as Wilde appeared.

Wilde gave Klara what he hoped was a reassuring smile and spoke to her in German.

‘It will soon be over, Klara – we’re just trying to make sure you’re healthy and well after our difficult journey here.’

‘I told them I was well. They wouldn’t listen.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He turned to the American intelligence officer. ‘And Cashbone, please forgive me. I sounded off a bit back there.’

‘Forget it, buddy.’

‘I was out of order – been under considerable stress these past few days and, like you all, I only have the child’s best interests at heart. Having thought it through, I can see that your scheme actually has a lot to be said for it.’

Cashbone beamed. ‘Glad to hear it. Nothing more to be said.’

‘All I ask is a little sensitivity and a little patience.’