“So how off the books is ‘off the books’?”

“They were protecting the DARPA project. There’s a faction growing up around it—we think it involves Manage Risk. It’s practically paramilitary.”

“They didn’t trust us to do the job.”

“I don’t know that it was that,” Bloom said. “More that they felt more comfortable having an insurance policy.”

“And happy to wipe out our assets at the same time.”

“No witnesses, Control. We might have done the same.”

“I’m curious—how did they track them?”

“We believe it was a satellite,” Bloom said.

“They re-routed a satellite? Good lord. Manage Risk can do that?”

Bloom spread his hands wide.

“How much would that have cost?” Control said. “They were that keen to get him back.”

“Indeed. Very keen. You can rest assured that I’m looking into it. I doubt we’ll need to involve the Group again, but I’d like to have you on standby.”

“Of course,” Control said.

Bloom unfolded his legs and stood, wincing with the effort of straightening out his old joints.

“We’re both getting old,” Control observed.

Bloom smiled, noticing that Control had recognised his discomfort. “I always thought that I would have been retired by now. Should’ve been.”

“How many did the Americans lose?”

“Three. One killed, two shot.”

“I told you she was good.”

“You did.”

“And Koralev? You said they wanted him alive.”

“I don’t think they really cared. Dead or alive—they just didn’t want him in play. All’s well that ends well, as far as they’re concerned. They’re happy with the outcome and we get a gold star we can cash in the next time we need a favour.” Bloom stood. “Thanks again.”

Control watched him go. He knew that there was a lot that he hadn’t been told. It wasn’t unusual. He was often given partial information, the motive behind an operation obscured or hidden behind a veil of national security or internecine departmental rivalry. He preferred to have the full picture, but he was experienced enough to know that that was not always going to be possible. Still, he thought, as he turned back to his window and gazed out onto the river, there were depths here that went beyond what was normal. Bloom was holding a lot back. Control wondered if he would ever find out more.

He put it out of mind and picked up the file that Tanner had left on his desk. It was an appraisal. The name on the front of the file was MILTON, MAJOR JOHN, and the sheaf of papers inside was a centimetre thick. He had commissioned the report two weeks ago. Beatrix’s approval was encouraging, even if it was equivocal. She was a hard woman to please.

He took his pipe from his pocket, sat down in his chair, and started to read.

16