25

THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Danny was like a cat on a hot tin roof outside Imogen’s office. ‘My God, you get me into some dodgy scrapes,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why I always say yes to you.’

‘Blind loyalty is a much underrated quality.’

‘Well, this is the last time.’

‘You’ve said that before.’

Danny paced. ‘You sure this really has the PM’s backing?’

‘Yes. But if you want to cut and run, I’ll understand.’

Danny didn’t – and wouldn’t, as they both knew from long experience. And a few moments later, Imogen arrived clutching a cup of coffee and the red box with her overnight papers. ‘Sorry, I just had to get my morning fix,’ she said, holding up the coffee. She led them into the palatial grandeur of her office and over to her desk at the far end, with its spectacular view of Horse Guards. ‘Christ, some office,’ Danny whispered, taking in the red leather furniture, antique bookcases, circular globe map of the world and assorted detritus of Britain’s imperial past.

Kate put her bag down on the desk. ‘We’re going to need your log-in,’ she told Imogen.

The foreign secretary’s breezy confidence evaporated. ‘What do you mean?’

‘We need to search the system. If Danny tries to break in, there’ll be the mother and father of all witch hunts.’

‘But they’ll be able to trace it back to me.’

Kate stood her ground patiently. ‘This isn’t a tracing-back-to-you situation. We’re looking for evidence. It either exists or it doesn’t. If it does, we can find various ways of hiding where we got it from.’

Imogen had segued to wary politician and looked deeply reluctant. ‘I’m not sure I can do that. It doesn’t feel right.’

But Kate had come too far to give up. ‘Imogen, the reason I’m standing here is that you said I had a moral duty to try to find the truth about the prime minister. So that is what we’re doing. We need your log-in.’

Imogen weighed this. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Step back, I’ll log in and leave it. That way, well, at least I can deny I gave you my details if it ever comes to it.’

They did as she suggested. Imogen logged in, picked up her box and went to sit on one of the red leather sofas. ‘I’m here if you need me,’ she said.

Danny took Imogen’s chair and Kate pulled over another to sit beside him. They leant in towards the screen. Danny searched the system for ‘Jamaica’, which brought up a vast array of documents that had no bearing whatsoever on the prime minister’s official trip there during his time as foreign secretary. It was laborious work scrolling through them and it was clear that all were related to Imogen’s period as foreign secretary and thus connected to her login only.

Danny tried to access the Foreign Office’s internal travel department, but seemed to be finding a constant stream of dead-ends. ‘I don’t think I can do this without being an administrator.’