Outside, it was warm, but with a strong breeze. And there was cloud cover. A storm was coming. Dreyfuss began to shiver as the sweat on his body cooled. A large sedan pulled up to the kerb, and Parfit opened the back door, ushering him inside. The driver was a thickset man with the face of a well-used hammer. He stared at Dreyfuss in the rear-view mirror. Parfit closed the door after him and they drove off.

‘This is Ronald,’ Parfit said to Dreyfuss.

Ronald nodded, unsmiling, then concentrated on his driving.

‘Where are we going?’ asked Dreyfuss.

‘Washington. There’s a private jet waiting for us at the airport.’

‘A private jet? Is that standard Foreign Office issue?’

Parfit smiled. ‘It’s not ours, I just borrowed it from someone who happened to owe me a large favour.’

Dreyfuss nodded.

‘So,’ Parfit was saying, ‘I think you’d better start at the beginning, hadn’t you?’

‘I nearly died up there.’ Dreyfuss turned towards him. ‘Why didn’t you warn me?’

‘But if you’ll remember, I did warn you. That’s why we’re sitting here today.’

Yes, Dreyfuss remembered all right. The telephone call telling him he’d been picked for the Argos flight, and then the arrival at his home of a man in a pinstripe suit, introducing himself as ‘Parfit, Foreign Office’. He had come, so he said, to give Dreyfuss a pre-briefing briefing. In fact, he had come with a warning.

The first thing he had done was go through Dreyfuss’ curriculum vitae, but in much more detail than the interview panel had done. He had cited Dreyfuss’ age as a point against him. Other minus points included lack of experience and slight problems of stamina. Dreyfuss, who had been elated at the news of his selection, began to feel distinctly uncomfortable at this.

‘Yes, but they still chose me,’ he had said.

‘Exactly, Major Dreyfuss,’ Parfit had replied. ‘Exactly.’

So there had to be a good reason, and Parfit was intrigued to know what it was. Dreyfuss had been bottom of the British list of candidates – no disrespect intended – and they couldn’t figure out how he could come top of the American list. But there would be a reason, and it was judged worth warning Dreyfuss to be on his guard, and to give him a few tips, a few lessons in the art of survival in a hostile environment.

‘You were right about that,’ Dreyfuss said now. He had just been telling Parfit what he had told Stewart, but in a little more detail this time. ‘I didn’t get into a space shuttle, I got into a coffin.’

‘So you think the shuttle itself is the coffin that had to be buried?’

‘Don’t you?’

Parfit rested his head against the seat-back, thinking things through. ‘No,’ he answered at last. ‘No, I don’t, not entirely.’

‘So what do you think was being buried?’