I smoked his cigarette right down to the filter before I spoke again. We were a couple of chess masters playing out the moves in our heads before daring to put a finger and thumb on a pawn. Or maybe we were a couple of alley cats staring at one another and hoping that something or nothing would happen before either of us had to make a decision. He didn’t revel in the moment. Just smoked his own cigarette and stared through the smoke and watched me as I stared through my own face into the darkness outside and tried to work out whether I was in danger. I wished I had a cover story to rehearse. Wished that Walt and I had come up with a legend for me in case anybody enquired about my business. I should have a name and a backstory, not just a costume and a wishy-washy idea about going home for the weekend. I tried to keep hold of myself. Had I done anything wrong? I’d been contacted by an ex-agent, been given a lead on some good intelligence and I’d reported it to my superior through the proper channels. I’d kept Walt’s name out of it because he’d suggested I not blot my copybook by mentioning where the information came from. And Talbot had laughed me out of the building. He’d wanted no part of it. And now I was heading home; heading back to where the Service had first snapped me up. Fine, I’d told Walt he could use the place, but whoever he was bringing with him, my only goal was to find out whether they had any information that could service national security. And that was the job they paid me for, wasn’t it?

‘You ready?’ asked my new friend, at last. He had a little smile peeking out from the corner of his moustache. Something about my body language must have betrayed the fact that I’d reached the end of my train of thought. ‘Worked it all out, have you?’

I matched his smile. ‘SAS,’ I said, giving a little nod at his scarred hands. ‘You’ve got the look of it about you. Got the build too. And the eyes.’

He nodded. ‘Aye, I won’t contradict you. Was a while ago now though. Different life.’

‘Different time?’ I asked, finishing the cliché.

He shook his head. ‘Nah. World was the same then as now. People hurting one another for a bigger share of shite. I can’t see it changing in my lifetime. Not in the bairn’s, neither.’

‘You have children?’ I asked, keeping it light.

‘A wee daughter,’ he said, and the smile was genuine. ‘A boy too but I don’t see him. I wasn’t good to his mother. He’s every right to think the way he does. But I’m getting it right this time.’