What brought me to my senses was an encrypted message that came in while we were having breakfast. Decoded, it read simply: WEST END CONFIRMS APPLE PIE ORDER. West End was Washington, and the rest was obvious. The Pentagon must have put out a test transmission and made contact with the SCR.

‘Can you believe it?’ I said to Rick. ‘They’re talking to the fucking thing, as if we’d buried a person there.’

‘I hope they’re being polite to it,’ he said.

The fact that Apple was up and running gave me a jolt. I suppose I’d been subconsciously hoping that somewhere along the line the system would fail, and that, through no fault of our own, the satellite would be unable to make contact with the bomb. In that happy event we’d be absolved from responsibility.

Speculation was cut off when Anna appeared at our back door proffering a small package.

‘I brought you a present,’ she began.

‘Great! Come in. Have a cup of coffee. We’ve got a few minutes.’

Perching neatly on a chair in our mess-room, she said, ‘This is by way of saying thank you for your help the other day.’

‘Oh, come on. We got a big thank you anyway.’

‘I know. But this is more important. Your security people in London may like to have it. MI5? Yes – MI5.’

‘What is it, then?’

‘Only a computer disk. But it contains full details of the Mafia organisation in London.’

‘In London?’

‘Yes. They’ve made rapid progress there lately. Drugs, banking, prostitution – all the usual things. The London network is spreading fast: links into Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, Rome and other cities. This is a copy of a disk we picked up in the apartment after the raid. It’s in Chechen, I’m afraid, but I’m sure your specialists will manage to translate it.’

‘Is Chechen different from Russian, then?’

‘Absolutely.’ She saw me looking blank, and added, ‘All educated Chechens speak Russian, of course. But the languages are entirely different.’

As she talked, my mind was moving at speed. Another computer disk. Had this presentation got something to do with our own disk that had been destroyed? Was this supposed to be an apology for that accident?

‘Well,’ I said. ‘As you know, that kind of crime isn’t really our field. But I’m sure the guys in London will be grateful. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome. Please send it with the compliments of the FSB.’

‘Sure. I’ll get it off today. The guys can take it when they go into town on the post run.’