“So now you’re talking to Benny. And your editor isn’t sure.”

Daisy said, “My editor doesn’t trust Benny. Not after last time.”

“And you do?”

“I think he’s got a story.” She put her elbow on the table, leaned her chin on her palm. “Your being here kind of proves that.”

“In what way?”

“In a spy-ey way. You’re here to tell me he’s making it up, aren’t you? That the evidence is faked.”

“I don’t even know what his story is, much less whether his evidence is shonky.”

“So why were you looking for him?”

“Good question.” He saw Benny entering with a takeaway cup in his hand. “He’s being looked for, though. I can tell you that much. What’s the story?”

She waggled a finger. “Uh-uh.”

“But something big.”

“Massive.”

“Except your editor isn’t buying it. In every sense.”

Benny arrived and put the coffee in front of Daisy. “A latte. Just the way you like it.”

“I take it black.”

“Oh. Looks like it’s mine, then.” Retrieving the cup, he looked at John. “So. He’s been explaining how unhappy MI5 is about you publishing my story. I told you the spooks would be coming out of the woodwork.”

“You did,” agreed Daisy. “On the other hand, this one doesn’t have a clue what you’re selling.”

They both studied John. He felt like an art exhibit.

“In fact, I’m not convinced he’s a spy. He doesn’t look like one.”

“The best don’t,” John suggested, though even he wasn’t convinced himself.

“So you might have put him up to it.”

Benny said, “Be reasonable. If I wanted someone who looked like a spy, I’d have picked someone else. Someone with a bit charisma.”

I am still here, thought John. He said, “Look,” and turned to Benny. “Like I said, there are people looking for you. Spooks, yes, but they’re not on Park time, they’ve gone freelance. And whatever you’ve done, whatever you’ve got, my guess is they want to stop you. So your best bet is to come with me. You’d be safer at the Park.”

Benny threw back his head and laughed.

“I mean it. I’ve spoken to First Desk there.”

“First Desk?” asked Daisy.

“That’s what they call the chief.”

“Sounds like you got that from a book.”

Benny was still laughing, adding theatre by producing a tissue and wiping his eyes.

“You’ve made your point,” Daisy told him.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” Benny said. “I told you they’d try to stop us. And this is what they’re up to. They’re hoping I’ll just trot along to the Park at John here’s heels. Like a bloody puppy!”

He laughed some more: an over-long solo.

“So let me get this straight,” John said, once Benny had more or less finished. “You”—meaning Daisy—“think he’s using me to set you up. And you”—this being Benny—“think the Park’s using me to set you up.”

“And how does that make you feel?” Daisy wondered.