‘Let me worry about the media,’ said Morgan, her mind racing. ‘If the worst that came out was that my husband and I had privately funded contractors… It might be the end of my political career, but I couldn’t care less about that. The important thing is that it couldn’t come back to the UK government.’

Topham, a sceptical look on his face, said, ‘I suppose. But finding guys who have the right skill sets to do this sort of thing, and are prepared to do it, would be hard. Going into a place like Libya, with little or no back-up, no support… It would take a special kind of man to put his hand up.’

‘But you know plenty of them,’ said Nicholls. ‘Look at the formation of your own regiment.’

‘The Regiment was formed by volunteers from recognised military units,’ said Topham. ‘Serving soldiers, operating within the rules of war.’

‘That’s as may be,’ said Nicholls. ‘But if David Stirling and Paddy Mayne were sitting here now, and we asked them if they fancied having a crack at these people, what would they say? They’d be raring to go. They did what they did because they loved it.’

Topham thought about that for a moment; he had to admit there was some truth to it.

‘Back in 1942, out there in the North African desert,’ said Nicholls, pressing the point, ‘they couldn’t call in A10s or Apaches if things got dicey. They didn’t have any casevac choppers, or night vision, or much else besides a lot of balls.’

Mark Topham said nothing, a thoughtful look crossing his face.

‘And it may not be our thing, but the Americans take a very different view,’ said Nicholls. ‘They do this sort of stuff all the time. You know that.’

Topham had to nod at that, too: the US military and their cousins in intelligence did operate in a much more relaxed environment.

‘Give me reasons not to do it,’ said Penelope Morgan. ‘Worst case?’

‘As Mark says, four men go in, they get captured, tortured and killed,’ said Nicholls. ‘And you still don’t get Charlie back. But what are the alternatives? We’ve just discussed the reasons for not acting officially. That leaves only two choices – try to negotiate, or do something unofficial. And we can’t negotiate under the G8 accord and the UN security council resolution which followed it.’

‘The French always pay,’ said Penelope Morgan, bitterly. ‘And the Italians, and the Germans. They all do.’

‘But we don’t.’ Nicholls hesitated. ‘I know you haven’t had to deal with anything like this since you took office,’ he said. ‘But could you in all conscience rewrite the rules for your own daughter? When the government has let others die in the past?’

Morgan got up and walked to the French dresser.