‘Now?’ Cavendish shook his head. ‘Nothing much. The minister wakes up, has a shave and gets into his best bib and tucker. And we, for the avoidance of doubt, tell him nothing. The release of any information with regard to this matter is an MI6 decision. Which makes it a matter, I’ve been told, for the Foreign Office. So, we escort him to the assembly, you and your colleagues looking all business. He makes his speech, to general happiness from the elected representatives. After all, he’s just about to promise whatever it takes to keep the country independent of a somewhat overbearing neighbour.

‘And then we head for home. Easy. The difficult bit was stopping the Chinese from butting in. From here on, Michael, all you and your chaps have to do is make sure the minister doesn’t get mobbed by well-wishers.’

27

To be fair to the major, Mickey was forced to concede, the rest of the morning went like clockwork. The move from hotel to the city’s council building, barely half a mile away, was a simple enough job. Unlike the move from the airport, the vehicles provided were civilian. A pair of Chrysler Jeeps for the visiting dignitary and his escort. The cars slightly past their best years but still tidy enough. With a pair of Defence Force long wheelbase Land Rovers leading and bringing up the rear. Ex-British Army Afghan issue from the look of it. Each one loaded with half a dozen of the ferocious-looking local troops.

Mickey rode shotgun in the minister’s car. Making a change to the usual SOP by ushering Sir Patrick to the front vehicle. Let any opposition think the rear car would be the one with the high value asset. His head on a swivel, checking left and right with metronomic regularity. Not even a hint of a threat. But unable to stop his mind drifting away to the minute that he heard the two muffled thuds. And turned to find the men who’d been hunting him dead. Neither of them even having known what hit them.

At the council building there was a small crowd waiting to greet the minister. Small, but vociferous in their evident support for yet another British intervention in their relationship with Guatemala. Cavendish discreetly indicated the cameramen lurking on the group’s fringes.

‘The press are here, Michael. Might I suggest two of you leave your carbines in the vehicle while the other two keep watch out here? I think the optics will be better if you escort Sir Patrick into the building with nothing more obvious than your pistols. I can imagine the headlines that the Chinese will come up with if you take him in with machine guns ready.’