‘My minister is of the view that we have to be prepared. He has told the Prime Minister as much, and as you know, they spent the weekend together. He feels one can allow one’s scepticism to get in the way of the need to be vigilant.’

‘It seems to me,’ said Pearson, ‘that we need to find out more. Maybe get some answers to various questions that have emerged here this morning. Don’t you agree, Tom?’

‘According to what he told Agent Laertes, Horatio is due to return to Berlin on another business trip next week, the first week in December.’

‘How long is he going for?’

‘Around four or five days, I gather.’

‘Well then,’ said Pearson, ‘say we send him over there with some company?’

‘And who did you have in mind, Roly?’

‘Agent Laertes would seem to be ideally placed, wouldn’t you agree? Nothing like getting intelligence straight from the horse’s mouth. Send him over with a clear brief: to check out the Oberst, get as much technical detail as possible and—’

‘And see if we can find out where these bloody rockets are allegedly being developed. If we can find that out and go and have a look at the place to verify it, even I might be persuaded. And if I’m persuaded, Winston will be too.’

‘Of course, Edward. I was just about to add that requirement. I suggest we reconvene once Agent Laertes returns to Copenhagen?’

A nodding of heads around the table.

‘Assuming the poor bugger gets back, of course,’ said the air vice marshal.

They walked in line through the narrow corridors and up the steep staircases to the ground floor of 10 Downing Street. The two RAF men left, as did Long from the Ministry. Tom Gilbey was about to follow them when Lord Swalcliffe grabbed him by the elbow, causing him to stop.

‘Well done, Gilbey, one nil to you. But we haven’t even got to half-time yet.’

Gilbey bowed his head in what was meant to come across as a magnanimous gesture.

‘One thing, though. This Agent Osric in Copenhagen, the one you describe as being well placed?’

‘What about them?’

‘She’s a woman, isn’t she?’

‘How the hell…?’

‘Pronouns, Gilbey, pronouns. You studiously avoided using male or female pronouns when talking about Agent Osric. You did it again just now.’

With that, Swalcliffe disappeared through the door, the rain now little more than a drizzle.

Gilbey stood there with a bemused look on his face – a chess player defeated by an ingenious move he never saw coming.

‘Those damn foreign types who become fluent in English, eh, Roly? They develop a precision in our language that can put them at an advantage over us native speakers. That French geography teacher at school, the one who broke Mogg’s nose in the staff versus pupils rugby match… what was his name?’

‘Leclerc?’