‘Her boyfriend? I’m afraid…’

Morgan looked down, her hands clasped together tightly.

‘He was a lovely young man,’ she said. ‘Paddy and I had high hopes of him. I must speak to his parents. They lost another son two years ago on a motorbike. How awful.’

‘I’m sorry.’

There was another, heavier silence.

Nicholls looked up at the mortar fence protruding six feet above the weathered brick wall.

He felt a pang of nostalgia for the old days, when the worst threat they had faced was a few angry Irishmen and their home-made fertiliser bombs. That had been bad, but manageable. He wasn’t sure the new enemy was going to be so easy to contain, much less defeat, unless the playing field changed dramatically – and the rules with it.

Penelope Morgan cleared her throat. ‘Why didn’t we know about this?’ she said.

Justin Nicholls was silent.

‘It’s a major failure of intelligence, Justin.’

Nicholls looked down at his feet for a moment.

The scale and nature of the threat they faced meant that it was impossible to stop every attack, but he knew that she was right.

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘There will have to be a full enquiry. But, for now, let’s worry about finding her and getting her back alive.’

The Prime Minister winced.

Sir Peter Smith stood up. ‘I have a couple of things to do ahead of the COBRA meeting. Will you be attending, Justin?’

‘No. C will be there, though.’

Smith nodded, said his goodbyes, and walked off into No. 10.

Penelope Morgan watched him go, and then looked up at the early evening sky above; it was a perfect blue, with a single fluffy cloud hanging overhead.

‘Gorgeous,’ she said, absently. ‘I remember my mother telling me that I was going to be Prime Minister one day. You know what she was like.’

Justin nodded and smiled, despite the situation.

‘We were down by the stables,’ said Penelope. ‘She said to me, “You’ll be the Prime Minister one day. Ten years at the Bar, then fifteen years of politics, then you mark my words, my girl, you’ll be the head honcho!” And here I am. I achieved her dream. Would have made her proud.’ She sniffed, fighting her emotions. ‘But I wish to God I’d married Dicky Coates and become a bloody farmer’s wife. When was the last time anyone kidnapped a farmer’s daughter?’

Nicholls said nothing.

The air was filled with late evening birdsong, and the muted sounds of London traffic.

Somewhere inside No. 10, a phone was ringing off the hook.

He said, ‘Have you told Paddy and the other kids yet?’

‘Paddy’s in the States on business,’ said Penelope Morgan. ‘He’s cutting it short and flying back tonight. Sophie was at her boyfriend’s house and is on her way up to town. Joff’s upstairs in the flat. He’s in a terrible state. It’s his big sister.’

She looked at Nicholls.

‘One thing does occur to me, Justin,’ she said. ‘How did they know where Charlotte was?’