‘Explain what?’ Kareem exhibited a faint contempt.

‘What your mission is. After all, you’ll be changing sides, betraying your own.’

‘My own, Patrick?’ The condescension was now deliberate and unconcealed.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘How little you understand of the world.’

Kareem was giving no more. ‘Let’s go back inside,’ said Patrick, ‘I’ll talk to them.’

‘Thank you. If you do not mind, I prefer to stay out here. It can become a little enclosed.’ Patrick turned to leave. ‘Perhaps you could ask someone to bring me a cup of mint tea. In addition to the cigarettes, their research was sufficiently professional to have some in the kitchen.’

Lowering the brass handle of the garden door, Patrick was interrupted in mid-action. ‘One final thing…’ He stopped to look back. Kareem was a picture of insouciance. ‘As I will be devoting my life to your Majesty’s Service, I would like the honour of an invitation to a Buckingham Palace garden party so that I may shake the hand of the reigning monarch.’

Patrick gave an acquiescent nod. ‘Of course.’ Restraining himself from kicking the door open, he went inside.

J and Isobel Le Marchant walked in through the internal door opposite. They were accompanied by a newcomer, a blond-haired man in his thirties.

‘May I introduce you to John, Patrick?’ said Isobel. ‘He’ll be joining us on this.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Patrick. John Donald.’ He stretched out a hand; Patrick noticed a hint of Scottish burr. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

Patrick assumed the three of them had been watching.

‘He’s biting,’ said J.

‘We’re biting,’ said Patrick gloomily.

‘Wise up, Patrick,’ said Isobel sternly, ‘it has to be a two-way deal.’

‘He’s got some nerve.’

‘It’s bravado,’ she replied. ‘His reaction to being cornered. He can’t afford to show weakness.’

Patrick turned to J. ‘How do you know you can trust him?’

‘That’s Isobel’s call. She’s the boss, I’m the gofer.’

‘Hardly, J,’ she said without smiling. There was something of the schoolmistress about her, thought Patrick, wondering what hidden depths had allowed her to rise so fast in such a traditionally patrician organisation. Perhaps that itself was the reason. A diverse MI5, ‘fit for purpose’ in New Labour’s twenty-first century. Perhaps they looked at him and thought the same.

‘The decision will go to the top,’ said Isobel, ‘but this is a unique opportunity. I’ve brought John in as our third pair of eyes. He agrees that we’ve never before had a chance to recruit such a high-quality asset from this particular world.’

Patrick, after his initial experience of Kareem’s slipperiness – not to mention his priggishness – wondered how they could possibly be sure of him.