‘Hey,’ said Sandford with youthful vigour, ‘slow down. We’re sixteen years on. That’s hardly a partisan view, we all recognise it. All it means is that you got there first. We as a nation reaped the whirlwind you saw gathering.’

‘Prime Minister,’ said Morahan, ‘sixteen years ago I left the world of politics to return to the law. I would prefer to stay there.’

‘If you accept this role,’ said Sandford, ‘so you will. It may be enabled by government but it is a judicial inquiry. I’m asking you to both help me and perform a duty for your country.’ With that, Sandford rose to his feet. The meeting was over.

Heavy-legged, Morahan pulled himself up, shook the three proffered hands and, exchanging parting courtesies, headed for the door. The cherubic assistant private secretary magically appeared and escorted him out.

As the door clicked shut, Sandford turned to Atkinson. ‘You knew him then. Will he do it?’

‘He’ll fall in line,’ replied Atkinson roughly. ‘Always a supine streak to him in my view.’ Sir Kevin Long raised a discreet eyebrow.

‘He had the guts to resign,’ said Sandford.

‘You’re wrong. He didn’t have the guts to see it through.’

‘Will he see this through? I want it done properly.’ He paused. ‘Let’s be clear, our secret friends need a bloody good kicking.’

‘Your message was clear. We’ll make sure he doesn’t forget it.’

Sandford gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘There’s the politics of it too, isn’t there?’

‘What do you mean?’ Atkinson’s voice betrayed anxiety at missing a trick.

‘We have four more years in power. During that time, there’s bound to be a big one. Maybe several.’

‘Yes, bound to be.’

‘So when it happens, people’ll never be able to say we didn’t do everything to anticipate it – to think the unthinkable. That we didn’t just leave it to the police and MI5. We shone a public light on them, we pulled together the wisest heads in the land to scrutinise them. No stone was left unturned.’

‘That’s good, Robbie.’ Atkinson’s admiration was genuine. ‘Very good.’

‘Thanks, Geoff. I’m surprised you hadn’t seen it yourself.’ Simultaneously they turned to the Cabinet Secretary but Sir Kevin Long was saying nothing.

‘Well, let’s hope that’s all settled,’ said Sandford, rubbing his hands. ‘Kevin, perhaps I might have a minute with the Home Secretary.’

‘Of course, Prime Minister.’ The Cabinet Secretary eased gracefully from the room.

‘What are you going to surprise me with now?’ asked Atkinson.

‘Think about it, Geoff. On whose watch did the terror return?’

‘The last Prime Minister, of course.’

‘And who was Home Secretary during the years the terror was being planned?’

Atkinson chuckled. ‘The last Prime Minister.’

‘Precisely,’ said Sandford, triumph in his eye. ‘Chilcot did for Blair. Morahan can do for her.’