‘I think I know you now,’ he said. ‘I think I know Martin Hepton. And I want to help you.’

‘Why?’

Vitalis held out his hands. ‘Because I am a generous man. So Devereux told you about the man he saw at the Argos base, the man in the storeroom that had been fitted with a computer console and a telephone?’

‘Didn’t I just say as much?’ Hepton said, hoping to tease a little more out of this man. The traffic had cleared, and they were nearing Holborn. There wasn’t much time. There were storerooms at Binbrook, too …

‘And he told you about the telephone?’

‘What about it?’

Vitalis paused to consider whether to tell or not. Hepton could feel his fists tightening. He wanted to hit this man very hard, to force something from him other than this casual chatter. To wipe the smile off his face. He looked at the driver again. The driver was looking back at him in the rear-view mirror. His eyes were hard like marbles.

‘The telephone,’ Vitalis began. ‘Devereux was intrigued by the telephone.’

‘A modem?’

‘No.’ He shook his head. ‘It had no dial as such. You couldn’t call out, you see; all anyone could do was pick up the receiver. Devereux picked up the receiver and waited.’

‘And?’

‘And he was connected to somewhere here in England, Mr Hepton. To some kind of listening base. To a man who called himself Fagin.’

Fagin. The line led straight to Binbrook. Hepton tried to look composed but shifted in his seat. Vitalis seemed to know the exact effect his words were having. He glanced out of the window.

‘This will do,’ he called to the driver, who pulled the cab in to the kerb. ‘Now, my friend Mr Hepton, can I offer you breakfast?’

Hepton shook his head. ‘I don’t eat with strangers.’

Vitalis shook his head. ‘I am not a stranger. Well, perhaps I am. But we have a common enemy, it would seem. We have our ideas as to what is going on here. But that is not so important. All my people want to do is to observe, for the sake of our own safety.’ His eyes were arch. ‘Do you know what happened, Mr Hepton?’

‘No,’ Hepton said, shaking his head again.

‘That is a lie,’ Vitalis noted objectively. ‘But I will let it pass. You will have your own reasons for saying nothing. As I say, we wish only to observe and to protect our interests. Now that Mr Devereux has been terminated, I profess I am more worried than I was. It proves … well, something at least.’ He shrugged. ‘It is your affair, Mr Hepton. By which I mean it is the West’s affair. Do you know a Mr Parfit?’

Hepton considered another lie, but paused so long that a lie would have been obvious.

‘Yes,’ he said at last.