‘He’s such a git,’ she mutters, hands flashing over the keyboard on the desk as she pulls up a video archive, clicking her way through snapshots of General Minchin. ‘He’s actually convinced he’s as sharp as he thinks his suits are.’

I start to panic. Jemima never gives up a chase so quickly, especially if a rival reporter is involved. But noise floods into the room before I get a chance to ask, door opening again. I freeze against the padded wall.

‘Hey,’ Jemima says, without looking up. ‘Sorry, I don’t know your name…’

‘Justin,’ says a stiff frame in the doorway, all white shirt and black trousers. ‘Thomas sent me. He said you needed some help from politics?’

Jemima ignores him, frowning as she opens another video file. I watch a flicker of irritation pass across the man’s face, otherwise so smooth and clear, I wonder if he’s ever had to shave. She swears as the frame freezes on General Minchin’s army-issue close-up, tight face closed to all bar the teardrop-shaped birthmark high on his right cheekbone, marking him out as unforgettable. Also shaped like mainland Britain, apparently. In a certain light, I guess it is. Everything looks like something else in a certain light.

‘Shall I come back?’ Justin says, with a cough.

‘Now I can tell you work for politics,’ Jemima says, bearing down on him as she straightens up. ‘Always looking for a way out.’

I wince as he laughs. I know she wasn’t joking. The monitor is still full of the general.

‘So what’s your beat?’ she snaps. ‘Defence, foreign, treasury, what?’

‘Home,’ he says. ‘I did my university placement there.’

‘Interesting,’ she says, as if it actually is. ‘And did they teach discretion at university?’139

He doesn’t laugh this time. Minchin looks on as they stare at each other.

‘What did you need from politics?’ he says after a moment.

‘I need contacts for as many defence ministry employees that you can muster,’ she says, reaching for her phone now it’s quiet. ‘Preferably without asking too many questions to get them. I’m only interested in the period between 1995 and 2000. The higher ranking the better, obviously, but junior is good too. Just as many as you can pull together.’

‘Aren’t they a matter of public record?’ I cringe as he questions her. ‘If they’re civilian contacts, rather than military?’

‘Would I be asking if they were?’

‘Jonas!’ Dominic bellows from outside the door. I’m pretty sure Justin would crumple if he wasn’t still holding on to the doorframe.

‘What are you doing here? I thought you were headed to Warchester?’ Jemima leans into the edit desk against the back wall. The general stares too, unblinking.