Also in the office in Broadway was Webster from the Danish section of SOE, looking even closer to death than he had earlier in the morning. Hendrie was there too, with his section head, Roland Bentley. But the object of Gilbey’s immediate wrath was Treslake, the leader of the team of watchers. The fact that they’d managed to follow Tindall around London and spot the young man entering the flat was not mentioned. Such success no longer counted. Their failure to catch him was all that mattered.

‘Remind me how many men you had on your team, Treslake?’

‘Ten, sir, including myself and the four police officers.’

‘All armed?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And I was there too, plus Hendrie, so twelve people, yet somehow this young chap managed to climb out of a third-floor window and disappear!’ He struck the desk, causing a teacup to dislodge from its saucer. Hendrie noticed Bentley take a step backwards, strategically placing himself behind Webster. His section head had a career-enhancing knack of stepping out of the line of fire.

‘He was incredibly agile, sir, and it was a narrow window; my men had to struggle to fit through it. He managed to climb up a further two floors and then disappeared over the rooftops.’

‘But you had a man in the courtyard. What the hell was he doing? Didn’t he have a gun?’

‘He did, sir, but I’m afraid it jammed.’

‘Jesus,’ said Gilbey menacingly, his fingers drumming heavily on his desk.

‘There is one thing, though, sir, if it’s of any help…’

‘Go on, Treslake.’

‘This has only come to light in the past half hour. You remember I told you how the younger chap had jumped on a number 24 bus heading north on the Charing Cross Road, and how he was so quick my watcher wasn’t able to get on it? Well, he was at least able to take the registration number of the bus, and we’ve now been able to speak to its conductor. He recognised the description of the young man and distinctly remembers him asking if the bus was going in the direction of Marylebone. He told him it wasn’t and that he’d need to change on Tottenham Court Road. He also says the man spoke with what he describes as a Continental accent.’

Gilbey looked up, his fingers still drumming.

‘I don’t suppose he was able to be more specific as to which part of the bloody Continent?’

‘I’m afraid not, sir. He just said he was foreign, with a Continental accent – and that he looked nervous.’

Later that morning, Gilbey had calmed down somewhat, though he looked no less angry as he paced the office with the pent-up energy of an aggrieved animal. Treslake and Webster had left, and now he was alone with Bentley and Hendrie.

‘What do you think, Roland?’