He paused for a moment.

Then he said, ‘I suppose you’re very busy also?’

‘Rushed off my feet,’ she said, with a laugh. ‘But it’s better than the alternative.’

‘I expect you are looking forward to your holiday,’ he said, with a smile. ‘Spain, I think you said?’

‘Oh, goodness, yes,’ she said. ‘I’m shattered. Yes, my boyfriend and I are going with some friends at the beginning of August. Emily, too.’ She nodded at the door through which Souster had left. ‘Can’t wait.’

‘I had the greatest holiday ever in Barcelona,’ said Zeff Mahsoud, sitting forward in his seat. He paused. Then he added, with a twinkle in his eye, ‘And, of course, Spain was a muslim territory from 717.’

‘Bit before my time,’ said Charlotte Morgan, with a laugh.

‘Wonderful galleries and architecture,’ said Mahsoud.

‘In Barcelona?’ said Charlotte. She began gathering up her papers, and stood up. She smiled. ‘So I believe. But too much culture never did a girl any good. It’s Marbella for me, I’m afraid. I’m all about the sun, sea and sand.’

6.

LATE THAT EVENING, after he had travelled north from Euston, and been reunited with his wife and their daughter, Zeff Mahsoud slipped out of the family home.

He had an important call to make, to a keeper of secrets.

It was the first of many.

PART TWO

7.

THREE MONTHS LATER

JOHN CARR LAY on a white towel in the hot sand, propped up on his elbows, staring out at the tranquil Mediterranean Sea.

Gentle waves – no more than ripples – broke, soft and frothy, on the beach.

Close to the shore, the Med was striped in dazzling turquoise shades, decorated with playful flashes from the noonday sun; further out, the waters turned a dark and mysterious blue, flat calm but hiding myriad untold secrets in their timeless depths.

It was very beautiful, Carr had to admit.

But despite that he was as restless as ever.

There were things John Carr liked about beaches, and things he didn’t.

The things he liked were good-looking young women in bikinis – who often liked him right back.

The things he didn’t like were sand, heat, flies, screaming kids, lying around doing nothing, and being caught looking at good-looking young women in bikinis by his teenaged daughter.

There was plenty of eye candy in the vicinity, but Alice was immediately to his left.

Stretched out on her towel, wearing mirror shades.

He thought she was asleep, but he couldn’t be sure, because he couldn’t see her eyeballs, because of the mirror shades.

So he kept his own eyes front.

John Carr had retired from 22 SAS as a Squadron Sergeant Major, having fought his way across every theatre of operations from the first Gulf War onwards in a long and distinguished career.

He’d twice been decorated for gallantry – not for nothing had he been known as ‘Mad John’ – and he had taken no shit from anyone in a very long time indeed.