Walker had made it his business to seek out Mainwaring’s vulnerable points, so knew that he had only made his way up the greasy pole as a staff officer and had never commanded in combat. And much to Mainwaring’s chagrin, despite his chest full of medals, he had never heard a shot fired in anger. Nevertheless, Walker rather approved of the way Mainwaring had got to the top by telling politicians what they wanted to hear. That was very much the Walker way, only with a difference. He prided himself on ensuring that what politicians, especially the PM, thought they wanted, was what Walker wanted and believed was right.

Which meant that when things went wrong, he was prepared to stand behind those decisions; more than could be said for the queasy-looking general now standing outside the door, waiting to be invited to enter. Normally he just blustered straight in, as if by right. But not today. Walker had long suspected that Mainwaring could not possibly believe even half the things he had been telling the PM for the past two years. His almost sheepish demeanor now told him that he had called Mainwaring right.

Nevertheless, he puffed out his chest before he spoke. “I’ve come to brief you before you attend COBRA, Prime Minister,” he announced portentously in a strong Bristol accent.

It was enough for the Prime Minister to recover his composure. Walker had told the PM it was time to put him in his place and he did not disappoint. He spoke with withering sarcasm. “So . . . CDS. Sending a bunch of NATO minesweepers was going to deter the Russians, was it? Wasn’t that what you told me?”

Mainwaring knew better than to reply. Instead, he stood silent.

“Thanks to your military advice, we’re in a hell of a mess. Trev tells me this is the worst British naval disaster since the Falklands War. ‘Sunk with all hands’ will be the headlines tomorrow . . . How the hell do you propose getting us out of it?”

As the Prime Minister spoke he lost his control for a moment. However, instead of exploding in rage, as many a prime minister before him had done in similar circumstances, he choked. Tears welled up in his eyes and his cheeks reddened with anger. With an effort he controlled himself.

“CDS, let’s be clear. I accepted your professional military advice that the presence of the NATO group, with Padstow as part of it, would send a strong signal to the Russians. And now . . . and now the ship is sunk and most of the crew are dead or missing.” The Prime Minister’s voice then went ominously quiet. “Kindly explain.”