‘Come on, you know what’s going on here. Sir Patrick is on the skids. Too much gossip, way too much innuendo. Too many people queuing up to put the knife in. He’ll be gone within the month. He’s already being discreetly cut out of the loop when it comes to the most sensitive classified information. And in the meantime, I’m here to make sure he doesn’t get up to any of what I suppose might be termed “his old tricks” to get out from under the falling piano.’

Mickey smiled quietly at the slightly drawling pronunciation of the last word. Pi-Ah-No.

‘But, since I’m going to be here for a while longer than a month, I suppose you’d better brief me on how you chaps work. Be a shame if I were to do something unhelpful in the event that it all gets noisy, wouldn’t it?’

Mickey nodded. ‘There’s not too much you need to know, really. It’s usually mostly about letting us do our job when it comes to anything out of the ordinary. Although we do have a clear set of priority actions, in the event of an incident involving an immediate and serious threat.’

‘Which are?’

‘One, safeguard the principal first and foremost. Covering him from any attack by any means possible.’

Cavendish raised a finger to politely interject. ‘Does that include taking a bullet?’

‘In extremis, yes.’ Mickey tapped the Glock on his hip. ‘But I’d rather be on my feet and returning fire. ‘Two, engage and neutralise the threat. By any means necessary. Shooting back usually being the best means. And three, relocate the principal to a place of safety. Which means that we do whatever we have to do to get him away safely. And if that means shunting other road users out of the way, that’s what we’re trained to do.’

Back in the Prot office he stretched wearily.

‘All that talking has given me a thirst, so I’m calling a Code 99. You get the kettle on and get it brewing, while I go for a quick look around.’

Leaving Wade to get busy with the teabags, he walked out into the big house’s silence. Stopped and listened for a moment. Reminding himself that he hadn’t seen the minister all day. He walked down the corridor into the lounge, one hundred feet long by forty wide. Sofas and scatter cushions, side tables with family photographs and vases of flowers. Dimly lit, outside of the pools of light cast by table lamps. A fire lit and burning in the antique Adam fireplace. Just the way Sir Patrick liked it.