On paper, Rove Denton was a private security firm. It did have some overseas operations, mostly providing bodyguards and discreet site security. A particularly keen eye would note that RD personnel never did get deployed to the real hotspots of the world, but more often to cities of relative wealth and comfort. There, they specialized in introducing their rich clients to the seamier side of life, protecting them more against over-inquisitive paparazzi than actual harm. May had heard plenty from returning colleagues. Some loved it, because when there was vice and pleasure splashing around, everyone tended to dip a hand into the fountain. Others came back faintly disgusted, because sometimes the tastes of their clients ran far past personal lines of morality. And it was the job of RD’s foreign service to cover up anything compromising, up to and including the odd body.

May himself had stayed home after signing up with the firm, and reckoned he’d made the right choice. Less chance to indulge, but better prospects. He’d proved adept at finding or obscuring, whatever the job called for. He’d warned or misdirected journalists, bought off mistresses, kept secrets and run anonymous threat campaigns to get activists to back down. Some of his peers had been keen on the heavy touch, going in fists first whenever they could. They tended not to stay. In contrast, May’s preference for violence as a last resort saw him promoted. And in due course, he was transferred sideways into the boss’s personal cadre.

For a couple of years he’d just enjoyed his good fortune, without really understanding why Mr. Rove was suddenly relying on him. Only a chance remark tipped him off, during one of his many face-to-face meetings with the boss. The man had made a passing reference to that business in Cyprus, eh?, and May had gone cold all over.

Not exactly a high-risk posting for a British serviceman. Except there had been one night when he’d been on duty, towards the end of his time in the forces. It was after he’d picked up his habit of doing little favours for people like RD’s clients. There had been a very rich man whose employees were taking delivery of something off the British Cypriot coast. May had command of the watch and he’d ensured the team got out and came back in without interference, using one of the base’s boats. Even put them up in the base while they waited for their helicopter out, all the paperwork faked up neat as you like. He’d taken a look at the cargo, though. He’d assumed it was drugs, or maybe antiquities, but there’d been a nagging worry that the crate might contain people, and he had his limits.