Stuart gave a derisive snort. ‘The payroll doesn’t stop with Macleod and Coull, you idiot. I have my hierarchy of minions, they have theirs. That’s what makes this operation so damned expensive. Every local Keystone Cop with a second mortgage, a nasty gambling habit or a sprog studying for some worthless university degree wants to get his fingers in the money pot. And meantime I still don’t have any better idea of what’s going on than I did hours ago. Where’s Hope? Where’s Kirk? What are they up to? I can’t stand not knowing. You said you were going to deal with this situation.’

Hacker glanced at Banks, not liking being reprimanded in front of a fellow Dishonourable. Banks went on cleaning the gun components and didn’t look up, as though oblivious of the conversation.

Hacker replied, ‘I’m doing the best I can. But with one guy down, two staked out in Kinlochardaich and two needed to take care of things here at base, our manpower resources are stretched thin. When you first involved me in this matter, we were going after an old man with a weak heart. That was before this Ben Hope came into the picture. He changes everything. If and when we do catch up with him, or your Keystone Cops somehow manage to deliver him to us, either way we’re going to have our hands full.’

Stuart stopped pacing and looked at him. ‘I thought you said the Pathfinders could eat him for breakfast.’

‘We could. But there’s only one of me here.’

‘So you’re saying you need additional manpower. Fine. Bring them on. How many more can you get hold of at short notice?’

Hacker glanced at Banks again, and this time Banks looked up. ‘Mikey Creece is looking for work,’ Banks said. ‘So’s Phil Buckett. Ran into them in a pub in King’s Cross the other week.’

Creece was an old crony of Hacker’s from back in the day. The two of them had been mixed up together in the lucrative gun-running scam that had ultimately ended Hacker’s military career. Creece had since gone on to better things. Hacker said, ‘I thought Mikey and Phil were in Ukraine, shooting rebels for the Russians.’

‘They were, but you can’t trust fuckin’ foreigners to keep a proper war going these days. Every time there’s a fuckin’ ceasefire it’s down tools and you don’t get paid for sitting around on your arse. They got pissed off and came home. Reckon they’d be up for it. And they’d probably be able to round up a few more of the boys, too.’

Hacker nodded. ‘Especially if it means taking out some SAS piece of shit who killed one of us.’