‘Well, Mr Bannerman. I don’t believe we’ve met before.’ The Minister approached with an outstretched hand. ‘You have quite a reputation. It seems such a pity that you spend most of your time buried away up there in Scotland.’

Bannerman smiled. ‘Maybe you ought to put it on your list of countries to visit. I’m sure it wouldn’t be beyond a man of your capability to reopen diplomatic relations.’

‘Very amusing, Mr Bannerman. Another drink?’

Bannerman shook his head. ‘No thanks. I’d like to talk.’

‘Depends what you want to talk about.’ He smiled easily. A man who had shaken the hands of presidents and prime ministers could take someone like Bannerman in his stride any day of the week. He was a good sixty years old, and not a man to use words carelessly. Gryffe was being groomed to succeed him. Which is why, perhaps, the two men had never got on. Or so the gossip columnists had hinted.

He had a good head of steel-grey hair and shrewd brown eyes that held you in their wryly condescending gaze. A man of gentle but firm persuasion, the ultimate diplomat. He had a reputation as a hard man, but fair, and good at his job. At a glance you could see why, and Bannerman thought, there was no point in staying for the meal.

‘I’d like to talk about Robert Gryffe and Tim Slater.’

The Minister smiled patiently. ‘Off limits I’m afraid, Neil. Unfortunate, of course, the whole affair. After the meal I shall be releasing details of our plans for having Robert’s body flown back to England. And the memorial service.’ He put a friendly arm around Bannerman’s shoulders and steered him gently towards the bar. ‘Of course, after the election, when’ – he smiled – ‘when my party is returned to office, we can perhaps have lunch together.’

Bannerman shook his head and returned the Minister’s smile. ‘Not really good enough, sir. Of course, I understand your reluctance to say too much before the election. A nasty business. Can’t have the voters getting the wrong idea. All the same, I’m sure many people would like to know why the assassinations of Gryffe and Slater have been hushed up by the Belgian authorities.’ He paused. ‘And whether or not Her Majesty’s government had any hand in it.’

The diplomatic smile was becoming a little frayed around the edges. ‘Oh, come now, Mr Bannerman.’ Gone was the friendly ‘Neil’. ‘There is no evidence to suggest that either man was assassinated. A quarrel . . .’

‘With all due respect, Foreign Secretary, you know as well as I do that is bullshit! All the evidence points quite clearly to murder by a third party.’

The Minister began steering Bannerman away again from the bar.