‘I do. But I didn’t expect to be going in half-cocked.’

‘You won’t be. We’ll go over every inch of the plan on the jet. By the time we land, you’ll be fully in the loop.’

‘That’s all I needed to know.’

Mallet straightened up.

‘You can leave your Wing-issued weapon here,’ he said. ‘Along with any spare clips, radio, your SIS ID. Someone will be along later to collect it all. Did you leave anything in your room?’

Bowman thought of the crushed pill he’d flushed down the toilet. ‘No, boss—I mean, John.’

‘Someone from Six will give it the once-over anyway. Leave the card with the rest of your Wing kit.’ He hesitated. ‘One more thing. This business with the nerve agent. Since you’re not foaming at the mouth, I reckon you’re in the clear. But Six wants a bit more reassurance. Risk of transmission and so on. You’ll have to get tested once we’re back home.’

‘Fine,’ Bowman said. Then he remembered something else. ‘Any news on that CCTV footage from the ballroom?’

‘Five has looked into it,’ Mallet said flatly. ‘It’s a dead end. The cameras weren’t working.’

‘All of them?’

‘That’s what they said.’

‘Can’t they trace the suspects through their mobile phone signals?’

‘The Russians only carry burners with them on these ops. They’re professionals. They’re probably on their way to Moscow by now.’ He glanced at his Breitling. ‘We’ve wasted enough time. Go and find Casey. She’ll get a uniform for you.’

They left the Shed. Mallet marched over to his makeshift office near to the computer terminals. There was a flurry of activity around the basement as the rest of the team hastily snatched up maps, documents, laptops. All the items they would be taking with them on the op. Bowman found Casey at the vanity table, packing a blonde wig into her rucksack.

‘I need a uniform,’ he said.

Casey tilted her head to one side as she cast an eye over the hard figure standing in front of him. She took in his impressive shoulders and honed biceps, his eyes as grey as stones.

‘What size are you?’ she asked. Bowman started to reply but Casey quickly shook her head and said, ‘Forget that. Stupid question. You’re definitely a large.’

She hurried over to the wardrobe, fetched one of the courier outfits. The logo of a well-known international delivery firm was stitched onto the breast pocket of the shirt and the front of the baseball cap. She held the uniform up alongside Bowman, judging cut and length and shape. Nodded.

‘There. That ought to fit. Pack that in your bag.’

Bowman draped the uniform over his forearm. Casey bit her lower lip, deep in thought. ‘Are you sterile?’ she asked.

‘I bloody hope not.’ Bowman grinned. ‘Not at my age.’