In France, Germany, Spain, Greece, Turkey, Finland, arrests were happening. And in the United States, too. Parfit had called Frank Stewart and given him the go-ahead to move in on General Ben Esterhazy and others, including, at the Pentagon, General William Colt. But without any apparent fuss or urgency: it had been decreed that the whole COFFIN affair was to be kept hidden from the world at large. In London, an anxious Home Secretary signed more D-notices in the space of an evening than in the rest of his term of office put together. It was all for the best.

Though Parfit had the devil of a job convincing Hepton, Dreyfuss and Jilly Watson of this. They were gathered around Dreyfuss’ bed, a good old-fashioned English hospital bed in a good old-fashioned (albeit private) English hospital. Dreyfuss was recovering slowly, but convincingly, though it seemed to him he’d been through all this one time too many.

‘So what did we accomplish?’ he asked.

Parfit shrugged. ‘What we set out to achieve,’ he answered.

‘So it just gets hushed up?’ yelled Jilly.

Parfit knew of her fiery reputation and was at pains not to test it too far.

‘The guilty will be punished,’ he said.

‘But not publicly!’

‘Does it matter?’

‘Yes, I think it does.’ She was out of her chair now, stalking towards the window.

‘I could remind you …’ Parfit began.

‘… That we’ve signed the Official Secrets Act,’ Jilly finished for him. ‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘But it’s so bloody unfair, after what we’ve been through.’

‘Jilly.’ The voice of reason was Dreyfuss’. ‘As Parfit says, does it matter? We’ve won.’

Jilly’s arm snapped out towards Parfit. ‘They’ve won,’ she said. ‘He’s won. Not us, Mickey. Not any of us.’ Her eyes went to Hepton, silent still in his chair, thoughtful, looking tired and numbed. ‘Martin?’ she coaxed.

He seemed to come awake. ‘What?’

‘What do you think?’

‘I think satellite TV’ll never be the same again.’ Then he laughed, the others joining in. ‘And I think I need a holiday.’

‘That shouldn’t present a problem,’ said Parfit, checking his watch. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve really got to go now. I have an appointment in London.’

‘Getting your back slapped?’ Jilly couldn’t resist asking.

‘Not quite,’ he said. ‘Can I offer anyone a lift?’

‘Yes please,’ said Hepton. He looked over towards Jilly, who paused, but finally shook her head.

‘I think I’ll stick around here for a little while,’ she said. She gave a hint of a smile in Dreyfuss’ direction, and he returned it.

‘Fine,’ said Hepton, meaning it. Parfit glanced at him.

‘Shall we go?’

‘Yes,’ said Hepton, ‘let’s go.’

As the car – yet another black Ford Sierra – sped towards London, Parfit revealed the nature of his appointment.