Kate frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Operation Cyclone exists. There’s a file, as you know. But if you read into it now, you’d think that it simply consisted of you being approached to assess this girl and report on her potential trustworthiness to the Russia Desk. That’s it. That’s the operation.’

‘So someone hasn’t just closed the gateway to what happened next, it’s now been removed from the system entirely?’

‘Exactly.’

‘So there’s no mention at all of the way Ian took it forward, ran with it, recruited her and used her intelligence to hold the German government hostage, with all those disastrous results?’

‘Right again.’

Kate tried to make sense of this. Since the file had been closed when she’d looked into it months before, she could see no earthly purpose in going to the trouble of erasing it entirely. Unless, of course, Ian was systematically covering his tracks.

‘What about today’s star guest?’ Julie said. ‘Tess Winkelman.’

Grove had given Kate the diplomat’s file but insisted it remain inside their new office in Cambridge Street. ‘Nothing spectacular. Pretty strait-laced. Washington, London, Brussels, London, Istanbul. Smart, ambitious. Destined for one of the big ambassadorships at a pretty young age, I’d guess, though a bit of an up-and-down romantic life with what looked to me like a different lover in each posting, so maybe she’s had her heart broken a few times or been forced to make difficult choices. No experience of Russia and no reason I can see as to why she would have been singled out.’

‘Straight?’

‘So it says.’

‘Sorry I’m late. Ran down to the gym.’

They both looked up. Callum had changed out of his suit into chinos and a midnight blue T-shirt. He’d swept his hair back from his immaculately sculpted forehead.

‘What – all the way down to the gym?’ Julie asked.

He rewarded her with a grin. ‘All the way.’

My God, Kate thought, he looked good enough to stop a supermodel at a hundred paces.

‘Can I join you?’ He gestured at their drinks.

‘Fuck, no,’ Julie said. ‘Novices aren’t allowed to drink on duty.’

‘Funny,’ he said easily. He gestured at the waiter, who darted over. ‘A large beer, please.’

There was a moment’s awkward silence as he settled his muscular frame into the delicate metal chair. ‘Tell us,’ Julie asked. ‘How did you get your very important job in Downing Street?’

‘I was with Mrs Grove at Transport.’

‘So you’re her man, or the prime minister’s?’

‘A bit of both. I left Transport to be one of the PM’s advisers when he was at the Foreign Office.’

‘I suppose you went to Cambridge, like Mrs Henderson here.’

‘Aberystwyth. And then Harvard Business School.’

‘So you always like to be a contradiction in terms?’

He smiled. ‘How is that a contradiction?’

‘Why did you get into politics?’

Callum gave her a long, cool stare. ‘You actually want to know or is this just the game you play?’

‘I want to know.’