“No,” she said. “I know it isn’t.”

First impressions—particularly the bottles of beer on the table—were not good. Beatrix knew that Control would ask her for her thoughts on a potential recruit and, at least right now, she didn’t anticipate being able to recommend him.

“What’s next?” he asked her.

“Have you memorised your legend?”

He nodded. “My name is John Smith,” he said. “My wife and I are the principals of Boutique Getaways. We’re here to meet with hoteliers on the Isla de Margarita. We are looking for destinations that we can add to our brochure. I’ve been in Costa Rica and Ecuador, and we scheduled to meet here. Legitimate meetings with hotels on the island were established six weeks ago. I’m quite looking forward to that.”

“They won’t be going ahead,” Beatrix said. “Our son’s boarding school will contact us in three days’ time. Jasper is going to contract glandular fever and we’re going to have to cancel our vacation and return home.”

“Jasper?” Milton said. “Jesus, who came up with that?”

Beatrix fixed him with a steely eye; perhaps he was more drunk than she had initially believed. “This isn’t a joke,” she said. “Have you done anything like this before?”

“Not quite like this,” he admitted. “I’m a soldier, not a spy.”

That was true; there was a world of difference between what they both did. “Do you know why you were selected for this?”

“I can think of two reasons. Because I’ve worked down here before.”

“That’s right,” she said. “And the second?”

“My father.”

James Milton had enjoyed a successful career in the petrochemical industry, and his success had meant that his family had been forced to endure a peripatetic existence until his retirement. Milton’s SIS file recorded stays in Saudi Arabia, Egypt, Dubai and Oman. He had been to Venezuela, too. His history meant that he was conversant in key languages and credible when he spoke about the country.

“Yes,” she said. “And there’s a third reason, too. Because your commanding officer speaks very highly of you. This is an important assignment. It’s also an opportunity for you. If you do a good job, there could be openings for you. The agency that I work for is always looking for operators we can trust.”

Milton smiled. “I’m quite happy doing what I’m doing,” he said. “Like I said, I’m a soldier, not a spy. This suits me. You’ll get one hundred per cent commitment from me, but I can’t imagine I’d be interested in a change of career. No offence meant.”

His eyes were a crisp, alpine blue, and Beatrix felt uneasy as she looked into them. They were unsettling.

“None taken,” she said, quite sure now that she would remove him from Control’s list as soon as she returned to London.

“What’s next?”