‘Me?’ Dreyfuss considered this. ‘Do you know how they got me from Washington airport to the embassy? In a crate. After that, a car boot will come as something of a luxury.’

‘A car boot?’

He nodded slowly. ‘Of course,’ he said, ‘there is a snag. First, we need a car. We could hire one, I suppose. I’ve got all sorts of false documents and credit cards on me.’

‘What about Parfit? Are you suggesting we do this without him?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.’

‘But why?’

‘Because I don’t trust him. I don’t trust anyone in this whole thing who hasn’t been hurt. You’ve been hurt, I’ve been hurt, and right now someone could be hurting Jilly. You’ve seen how Farquharson operates. He’s scared of COFFIN. He’s not going to do anything.’

‘We don’t know that.’ But Hepton’s voice betrayed his feelings. The time for action had come. He knew his way around the Binbrook base, and Dreyfuss was right: alone, he might stand a good chance of gaining entry. Once inside, he could …

‘I could tap into their intercept,’ he said.

‘What?’

It was becoming quite lucid now. Somehow he’d known all along that this moment would come. The moment when he could put his skill to the test. A moment of challenge.

‘I could tap into their intercept,’ he repeated. Dreyfuss listened hungrily. ‘I’m sure I could. I could screw up their entire system.’

‘But won’t there be alarms? Protection circuits? That sort of thing?’

Hepton nodded. ‘Oh yes,’ he said. ‘There’ll be codes. Entry codes. We’d have to crack them.’

‘That could take for ever.’

This time he shook his head. ‘I’ve got a friend,’ he said, ‘and he’s got a little box …’

Dreyfuss thought things through. Gain entry to the camp, gain entry to the control room, break into the spoiler satellite … Hepton could work on that, while he, Dreyfuss, could look for Jilly. And for Villiers. A lot of ghosts were crying out for revenge. So were a few of the living.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘If you think it’s worth a try, I say we leave now, this second. Before Parfit and his boss have a chance to hold us back. I get the feeling somebody’s been holding us back all the way along. Like bloody fish on a line. Allow us a bit of play, then reel us back in. Seeing what we know, how far we’ll swim. Hoping we’ll tire, so that we’re easy to land …’

But Hepton wasn’t listening. He was watching a young man who had entered the canteen and was studying one of the snack-vending machines at the far end of the room. He waved a hand, but it wasn’t necessary. He had already been recognised. The man, smiling, approached their table.