"No." I sit down hastily, before Iris can get a word in: "Intimidation is when you're boxed by a Thirteenth Directorate officer and two Spetsnaz thugs he borrowed from the embassy. I'd recommend it sometime: it'll be good practice for when the Auditors decide to rake you over the coals."

Shona has been bottling it up for some time, and now she lets rip: "Bob, what exactly did Panin want? I think you'd better make a full statement right now." That's right, she's with Oscar-Oscar, same as Jo, isn't she?

"Panin tried to pump me; I don't pump easily. His specific concern is Teapot. The Teapot is missing, he told me: You'd better find it before the wrong people get their hands on it and use it to make tea. There was a lot of tap-dancing, but that's the basic substance of it." I carefully avoid thinking about our inconclusive exchange on the topic of Amsterdam, which is now looking even murkier in context: They do that, you know. To muddy the waters. (Fucking cultists.) "He offered to trade, if we have anything to offer."

"Wonderful." Shona is making notes. "So that's it?"

"Substantially, yes." Because all I know for sure about the cultist connection is inference—and Angleton's instructions. (Thus do we damn ourselves, by the treachery of our own words.)

"Okay, I'll compile this and add it to the minutes, so at least we've got it on paper somewhere. That should cover you. Then we can decide how and when to send it up the chain." She stares at me blackly. "I assume that's why you brought it up here?"

"Yes. I want to keep it confidential to the BLOODY BARON committee for now. I'm worried about how Panin knew who to talk to and where to find him. Not to mention when."

Iris speaks up: "Yes, that's very disturbing." She looks appropriately disturbed for a split second, then flexes her management muscle. "Vikram, would you be a dear and make sure to accidentally lose the minutes of this session between your desk and your email program? I think it wouldn't hurt for distribution to be delayed for a few days, until the situation settles one way or the other."

Despite the aging biker chick style that she affects, the temperament and training of a steely home-counties matron lurk not too far under the skin; put her in twinset and pearls and you can see her biting the heads off hunt saboteurs. When she turns the big guns on Choudhury he runs up the white flag at once. "Ah, certainly, madam." He spares me a poisonous glance, which I ignore. "SSO 3 Howard's unfortunate encounter will be thoroughly misfiled until I hear otherwise."

"Do you expect Panin to make contact again?" Shona demands. "In your personal judgment."