“Your new number two.”

“Yes, but he was not my choice.”

“Then what’s going on, Felicity?”

She sat down next to him on the cockpit seat. “I appear to be under unusually intense scrutiny from above.”

“From how far above?”

“At least the foreign minister, to whom I report, but probably the PM, as well, and possibly the whole of the cabinet.”

“Then all that’s left is the editorial board of the Times.”

“That would not surprise me,” she said.

“What have you done to warrant all this attention from your betters?”

“I’ve thought about it, and I can’t imagine what.”

“Oh, come on, Felicity. You are always at odds on four or five things with the government. Pick one.”

“The strangest thing about all this is that I can’t think of one that would so turn up the temperature. It is a peculiarly tranquil time at the Circus.”

“All right, then why is Colonel—sorry, Brigadier Fife-Simpson, the instrument of their suspected displeasure?”

“I didn’t even know the man six months ago,” she said. “Then he was foisted upon me as director of training at Station Two, and he has, I must admit, done a very good job. The curriculum has been improved, and the failure rate among candidates has dropped markedly.”

“You mean, even I passed?”

“Well, yes, but that wouldn’t have surprised me.” She placed a hand on his cheek. “I knew you’d do well, that’s why I egged you on. What was your impression of the quality of the training?”

“High and intense. I haven’t learned so much in such a short time for many years—not since I took a cram course for the New York State Bar in preparation for taking the exam. Mind you, back then I was merely learning what I had already forgotten during the years since law school.”

“And the physical demands?”

“Demanding. Fortunately I was in pretty good shape—better than my classmates, who had been warming chairs for too long.”

“Those classmates, my dear, were the crème de la crème of our recruitment.”

“They were bright, I’ll give them that, but pudgy. The only one near my age who gave me a run for my money was Fife-Simpson himself, who took part in the long runs, and he looks to be a few years older than I.”

“He is three years older,” Felicity said.

“Oh,” Stone said. “I had to work hard to outrun him.”

“And what parts of the training did you dislike?”

“The knife training, using real knives. That was excessive, I thought—closer to street fighting than military. Fife-Simpson could have gutted me at will, I’m sure, and there were times when I thought he might.”