‘I’m sorry. He’s not here. It’s the duty officer speaking. Can I help you?’

‘I need to talk to him urgently.’

‘I’m afraid he’s not available on this system.’

‘Can you ask him to come in, then?’

‘Is it that urgent? Can’t it wait till the morning?’

‘No.’

There was a pause. Then the guy said, ‘All right. In that case, I’ll pass the message. Has he got your number?’

‘He’ll have it there in the office, yes.’

I rang off, thinking of Hereford. Where the hell was the boss? He was taking his time to come through. Maybe he was out at a party. By now it was midnight – 9.00 p.m. in the UK. Not late.

Mal looked up from his notes and asked, ‘Who’s controlling the tracker satellite?’

‘The Americans,’ I told him. But his question prompted a sudden idea.

‘Jesus!’ I exclaimed. ‘That’s a thought, Mal. I’m going to call Tony Lopez right away.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘American, ex-SEAL. He was seconded to the Regiment before you joined. Now he’s working for the CIA. It was him who put the ferrets in after Rick’s girlfriend’s sister. But he’s a hundred per cent on side. He’ll help. What time is it in Washington?’

‘Five o’clock,’ somebody said. ‘Correction. Four.’

‘He’ll still be in the office.’

I jumped up, dug out his number and punched it in. Two rings, and an American voice answered.

‘Tony!’

‘I’m sorry, sir. Major Lopez is in a meeting.’

‘Break in on him, please. This is an emergency.’

‘May I ask who’s calling?’

‘Just say Geordie.’

‘One moment, sir.’ The guy had that ultra-polite, deferential American manner that gives me a pain in the arse.

I put my hand over the mouthpiece and said, ‘He’s coming.’

A second later Tony was on the line – but he didn’t sound himself. His voice was quick and sharp.

‘Tony,’ I began, ‘we’re in the shit.’

‘OK, I know what it is.’

‘You know?’

‘Sure. Hereford have been in touch. That’s what we’re discussing right now. The satellite tracker system’s up and running.’

‘Thank God. Can you let us know if you get a line on where they’ve taken the thing?’

‘Sure can.’

‘OK. I’ll speak to you later.’

As I replaced the receiver, the phone rang.

‘Geordie?’ It was the night comms clerk in Hereford. ‘I’ve got the CO for you.’

‘Put him on.’

The first thing the boss wanted to know was which two guys we’d lost.

‘Pavarotti and Toad,’ I told him.

‘Toad!’ he said. ‘Jesus!’

‘Exactly. The next thing’s going to be a ransom demand. We’ve got to recover Orange, and fast.’

‘The Americans are tracking it already.’

‘I know. I just spoke to Tony Lopez in Washington. He seems to be on the tracking team. Boss – what do you advise?’