He was contemplating the fact there were two desks, two chairs and two computers when there was a rap on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Farakh Javed breezed in.

‘Morning, boss.’ Javed held a sheet of A4 paper in his right hand, in his left a cardboard tray with two coffees in disposable cups. He put the tray down on one of the desks and passed the piece of paper to Holm. ‘A privilege to be involved.’

‘You’re not…?’ Holm’s mouth dropped open as Javed slipped into the spare chair and gave it an experimental swing back and forth. Any thought Holm had entertained about being able to sit in his office doing nothing except listen to a jazz CD or read a book had gone out the window. The non-existent window.

‘This isn’t funny though,’ Javed said, gesturing at the piece of paper. ‘It was stuck to the door. If I was the sensitive type I’d be taking it to my line manager and calling it harassment.’

Holm glanced down at the text written in felt tip: The Top Top Top Secret Department. Somebody’s idea of a joke at his expense. Holm looked back at Javed. Another joke. This time, though, it could only have been played by Huxtable. He suppressed a groan.

‘I know what you’re thinking.’ Javed lifted the lid of his coffee and slurped. He turned his head as if he was only just noticing the spartan conditions. ‘What the heck did poor Farakh do to deserve this?’

‘Something like that.’

‘I guess I was guilty by association. Still, I seem to be the only one, huh?’

‘There’s isn’t room for anyone else.’

‘Right.’ Javed took another slurp and then put the cup down, pulled out a pair of nail clippers and began to trim his nails. Holm could see he was going to have to set some ground rules. Javed smiled across at him. It was a smile that would have made the fairest maiden swoon into his arms. A trick played by Mother Nature because those fair maidens didn’t stand a chance with the boy. ‘So, what’s the story? The only thing Spiderwoman told me was this was a special unit and we’d be operating with a wide brief. Sounds like a whole lot of fun, yes?’

‘Fun?’ Holm spat out the word. Farakh wasn’t to blame, but Holm had the beginnings of a headache brought on by the lack of natural light and decent ventilation. ‘Are you fucking joking?’

Chapter Six

‘I’ve known your father a long time, Ms da Silva,’ Fairchild said as they walked down towards the lake. ‘We go back.’

‘The army?’

‘The army. He was a fine soldier. We were in some scrapes together in the first Gulf War.’

‘You were special forces too?’

‘I was. I understand the difficulties you’ve both faced.’