‘And I have no intention of breaking that promise.’

‘Who was following us this morning?’

‘That’s what I intend to find out.’

Kate left before she had to field any further questions, and squeezed herself awkwardly into the back seat of the Range Rover, between Grove and the PM. ‘There’s a bar in the village,’ she told the driver and the personal protection officer in the passenger seat. They roared off, with the back-up car behind them.

The place was deserted, and its bearded, world-weary patron didn’t bother to hide his irritation at their appearance so late. They took a corner seat and ordered a bottle of rosé.

The PM waited until the less than genial host was out of earshot before he began. ‘Look, Kate, the reality is stark. Half of the world still thinks of me as a Russian spy, or agent of influence, or whatever term you want to use – a Moscow stooge, a traitor, a liar …’

‘That’s not my problem. I cleared you comprehensively of that charge in the inquiry Mrs Grove oversaw before I left MI6.’

‘It is your problem, I’m afraid. The idea that I might be a traitor stems entirely from that bug you put on the oligarch’s super-yacht in Istanbul all those months ago. Without you “overhearing” the “conversation” that first suggested I was a spy, this would never have emerged to tarnish my premiership.’

Kate couldn’t, and didn’t, argue with this.

‘Besides, I read your evidence to the so-called “inquiry”. It’s clear to me you still believe every word you heard on that yacht.’

Kate frowned. What the hell was this? ‘So you’ve come all this way to accuse me of lying to exonerate you?’

‘Just hold your horses a minute and hear me out.’

‘I don’t want to go over this again.’

‘I understand why you’d want to leave it all behind you. I also get why you’d hold on to the original idea. We know the Russians are trying to corrupt figures in our public life, and I accept that, from a certain angle, I seem a credible candidate – chequered personal life, opaque finances.’ He gave her a sheepish grin. ‘As you would see it …’

Kate did not smile back. She thought, once again, that this man had no shame.

‘So, for the purposes of this conversation, I want to go right back to the start. The man who first tipped you off about the meeting of Russia’s intelligence bigwigs on that yacht was a friend from your time studying in St Petersburg, correct?’

Kate stared at him for a moment, then got up. ‘I’m really not doing this again. Enjoy your wine.’

‘Wait!’ He leapt to his feet, face creased with worry, a far cry from the smooth talker she’d found so easy to dismiss. ‘Please, Kate …’

If he was faking his own concern, he was doing it unbelievably well. She sat down slowly again. ‘You have five minutes.’

‘We’ve been left with no choice but to go over old ground with new eyes.’