ANGELA SCOTT WAS not usually one to dodge protocol. A vicar’s daughter who’d won a scholarship from St Paul’s Girls’ School to Newnham College, Cambridge, she had always played by the rules. Now, after years as a career case officer in MI6, she knew full well you didn’t go barging into the Chief’s office whenever you felt like it. You rang ahead, you spoke to his PA, you booked an appointment in his overfull diary and, if you were lucky, he might see you for a few minutes the following week. Yet today she did exactly that. She stood outside the outer door of his office, straightened her skirt, adjusted her hair, took a deep breath, then marched straight through into his carpeted office, just as Sir Adam was finishing a phone call. He looked up in surprise.

‘I’m so sorry to barge in, C,’ she began, ‘but I thought you ought to know this.’ She hoped he wouldn’t notice how tense she was, standing there, balling the fingers of one hand inside the other. Well, if he had noticed, he wasn’t commenting on it: instead he gestured politely for her to take a seat.

‘We’ve had word from Luke Carlton in Moscow,’ she continued. ‘He’s back at his hotel and he’s sent a burst transmission using the quantum key.’

‘And?’ The Chief showed neither irritation nor pleasure at this unscheduled interruption. His years of playing ‘the grey man’ as a junior case officer had clearly stayed with him right through to where he was now, in his late fifties, at the pinnacle of his profession.

Angela shifted her position slightly and tucked a wisp of hair behind her ear. ‘Luke says he’s been offered an entrée into WaffenKrieg90. Right into their command circle. Using an adopted alias. The Russians do seem to be playing ball on this one. They’re ready to help us. For once.’

Sir Adam sat back in his chair, pressing his fingers together in a steeple, staring at her with a concentrated gaze. My God, he looks tired, she thought.

‘Is it genuine?’ he asked her at last.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Do you think they’re being sincere, the Russians? I know this has all been signed off at a political level, but still …’ He breathed out hard and shook his head. ‘Maybe I spent too much of my career on the Moscow beat. But if there’s one thing it taught me, it’s never to take anything from that lot at face value. Believe me, Angela, when it comes to the Russians, there is always a hidden game plan. You just have to look for it in the right place.’ He stood up, pushed away his chair and walked over to the window. ‘All right, so go on, tell me, because I’d value your opinion. What’s your evaluation?’