‘What was the outcome?’

‘When Frank made the approach, sir, it became clear that Romeo’s name had been mentioned by Mansour.’

The flash of anger that hit Cunningham was difficult to suppress. This was exactly what he had feared.

‘Raised in what context?’ he asked, his tone low. He could not fully hide the anger, nor could he disguise the threat now in his voice.

‘They suggested that Mansour was already familiar with Romeo before his arrest.’ Meyer sounded dejected as he explained. ‘And that the only explanation for that would be some sort of criminality on Romeo’s part.’

‘And Romeo’s status? Do they know he’s Secret Service?’

‘That wasn’t said expressly, no. But with everything else, sir, we probably need to assume that they do.’

Cunningham sat back in his chair. Placing his hand on his chin, he shook his head in disgust.

Knowles said nothing.

Meyer, too, remained silent, his head down.

There was no hiding it: this was bad news.

The silence lingered. Finally Cunningham climbed to his feet and walked to the windows behind the presidential desk.

He stood there in silence, staring out towards the manicured lawns and expertly crafted topiary that surrounded the world’s most famous residence. None of it caught his attention for even a moment. Cunningham’s mind was elsewhere. He was working through the problem. Searching for an answer.

Finally he turned.

‘I was in two minds about this. It’s only two men, I thought. Two deaths. The Brits won’t like it, but if we spin them the right BS they’ll go along with what we choose. They always do in the end.

‘Not that it’s that simple. Not when there’s the likelihood of the media getting involved. As pliable as their government is, the British tabloids are out of control. So I thought it might be best to silence them another way. Bribery. Threats. I hadn’t decided.

‘But with what you just told us, Jack? Can we really trust that they’ll stay silent, if we leave them capable of speaking? I mean, with Mansour dead their client confidentiality goes out the window.’

Cunningham was now just speaking his thoughts aloud. Thoughts too fast for Meyer.

‘What are you saying, sir?’ Meyer asked.

‘I’m saying I need more time to think about this one,’ Cunningham admitted. ‘It’s not easy but there’s one thing I do know. If Mansour dies and then both his lawyers go too? With TV footage of their faces outside his first court hearing? That’s a damn guarantee of press attention. So for now – until I’ve got this worked out – I want you to put a team on them both. Pull out all the stops. Closest possible observation.’

‘Sir.’

‘And move forward with Mansour. That sonofabitch has to happen today, exactly as arranged.’

‘Sir.’

‘Get it done.’

Cunningham walked back around to his seat, then looked at Meyer expectantly. Despite having his orders, Meyer had not moved.

‘Is there something else, Jack?’

‘I’m afraid there is, sir.’