Topham looked at her, weighing the strength of her gaze. He’d met Morgan once or twice since her election, but this was his first look at her close-up, and the first serious discussion he’d had with her. And he liked what he saw: it was refreshing for a senior politician to discuss acting in a way that reflected the world as it was, rather than as she wished it was.

This was a strong woman, he was sure, with whom he could work well in the future.

‘Ours is not to reason why,’ said Topham, with that gentle smile again. ‘If I’m happy that the plan is militarily sound, and you tell me to go, we go. The politics, the international fall-out, the UN… that doesn’t concern me.’

Penelope Morgan nodded. She closed her eyes, and tried to remove Charlotte from the picture and think.

After half a minute, perhaps more, she opened her eyes and looked at Mark Topham.

‘I’m sure we shall have a long and fruitful relationship when all this is over, Mark,’ she said.

‘I hope so, Penelope.’

‘But that doesn’t help me right now. We can make overtures to the NLTA, see if we can get the Memorandum, but I can tell you now that it would take months to get anywhere. And I don’t think we have months.’ She turned to Justin Nicholls. ‘Do you have any suggestions, Justin?’ she said.

‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘I do.’

Chapter 55.

55.

‘JUST HEAR ME out, Mark,’ said Justin Nicholls, with a wary glance at Topham. He looked at the Prime Minister. ‘If we can’t go in officially, what about going in unofficially?’

‘Unofficially?’ said Penelope Morgan. ‘What do you mean?’

Topham was shaking his head, but Nicholls pressed on.

‘Let’s say a small group of British nationals made their way to Egypt on holiday,’ said Nicholls. ‘Sharm, perhaps. Beach holiday. The Red Sea’s beautiful at this time of year, if a little warm.’

‘Deniable ops?’ said Topham, a note of incredulity entering his voice.

‘It’s some distance to Sirte from Sharm,’ said Nicholls, ‘but it would be doable, for the right men. And with the right assistance.’

‘What do you mean by “deniable ops”, Mark?’ said Prime Minister Morgan, leaning forwards.

‘The sort of thing you see in films,’ said Topham. ‘You send people in, they do your dirty work, and if it all goes wrong then you cut them loose and you’ve never heard of them. It’s not something we do, and for very good reason.’

‘What very good reason?’

‘What happens if it does go wrong? A bunch of Britons, all ex-soldiers, all armed to the teeth, killed or captured in Libya? How deniable is that? Are people really going to believe that they were tourists? The media would have a field day.’