‘They only spoil the fun, anyway,’ said Fred.

‘Okay,’ said Carr. ‘That’s that, then.’

‘When will we get a precise location?’ said McMullen.

‘My guy at Six is on it,’ said Carr.

He yawned and stretched.

‘Right, boys,’ he said. ‘That’s me away back to London, to see the Six contact. Stay in comms. I’ll update with intel as I get it, and with range details when I get them. Alright?’

With that, he was gone.

Chapter 64.

64.

JOHN CARR WALKED into the Savile Club in Brook Street at a shade after 21:00hrs, and jogged on up the grand staircase to the second floor.

He stopped by a door with a brass sign which said ‘Flyfisher’s Club’ and grabbed a guy who was walking past.

‘I’m here to see Justin Nicholls,’ he said.

‘Ah,’ said the guy. ‘I think Mr Nicholls is in the library. Would you mind waiting here, please sir?’

A moment later, he returned with Nicholls, who was wearing a dark grey pinstripe suit and a pale pink shirt.

Carr signed in and followed the MI6 man to a secluded pair of seats by the window, overlooking the Mayfair street below.

‘Drink?’ said Nicholls, adjusting his blue and red diagonal-striped tie slightly.

‘Nah,’ said Carr, looking at the tie. ‘Guards, were you?’

Nicholls looked confused for a moment. Then he understood

‘Oh, this,’ he said. ‘Yes, I commissioned into the Life Guards. Invalided out, unfortunately. Skydiving accident, on leave in Florida. Hospital for six months, and I couldn’t really hack the physical side thereafter.’

Carr chuckled. ‘I didnae know your mob of hats had a physical side,’ he said, though inside he wondered whether Nicholls might be more than the buttoned-up suit that he appeared.

He looked around the otherwise empty room, which was full of books, pictures and other artefacts on the subject from which the club took its name.

‘You fish, do you?’ he said.

‘No,’ said Nicholls. ‘Don’t even eat the stuff. But it’s a convenient and unobtrusive place for meetings like this. Less exposed than my other club.’

‘Which is?’ said Carr.

‘Boodle’s,’ said Nicholls.

‘Never heard of it,’ said Carr, with a sniff.

‘Ian Fleming was a member,’ said Nicholls. He looked almost apologetic. ‘And James Bond was a frequent guest at its fictional equivalent.’

Carr chuckled. ‘James Bond, eh?’ he said. ‘And skydiving? Fancy yourself a bit, do you, Justin?’

‘Shall we crack on?’ said Nicholls.

Still grinning, Carr said, ‘Any new int on their location?’

‘Not yet,’ said Nicholls. ‘Our analysis has thrown up various places, but you know what that area’s like. No shortage of hidey-holes all along that part of Libya. We need intelligence.’

Carr nodded. ‘When do you think you’ll get that?’ he said.