Parfit explained that most of the embassy staff were sleeping on the premises these days, so beds and furnishings were scarce. However, he did return a couple of hours later with a portable television, a radio and some books.

‘If anyone asks where they came from,’ he said, ‘say they were here when you arrived.’

Dreyfuss nodded at this. He didn’t want to know where these items had come from, and he didn’t care where they had come from; he was just glad that he had them now, and not someone else. His room, such as it was, must have been a storeroom. At least he could think of no other use for a space measuring twelve feet by ten and tucked away in the furthest, highest corner of the building. There wasn’t even a window, but there was a small skylight, desperately in need of a clean.

‘I’d have been better off back at Sacramento General,’ he commented.

‘I really do doubt that,’ said Parfit.

There was a knock at the door, and it was pushed open by a feisty individual wearing half-moon glasses. He was breathing hard, obviously unused to climbing the stairs to this attic level.

‘Ah, Parfit,’ he said.

Parfit introduced the two men.

‘Major Michael Dreyfuss, this is Johnnie Gilchrist, a colleague of mine.’

‘How do you do?’ said Gilchrist, shaking Dreyfuss’ hand. Then he noticed the portable TV. ‘Nice-looking model. I’ve one just like it in my own room.’

Dreyfuss tried to avoid Parfit’s eyes.

‘So,’ Parfit said, ‘what brings you so far out of your lair, Johnnie?’

‘I’ll tell you. I’ve been trying to make contact with this man Devereux.’ Dreyfuss and Parfit both looked interested, and there was nothing Gilchrist liked more than an attentive audience. ‘Devil of a job I had, too.’ He turned to Dreyfuss. ‘These days, Major, the international situation being what it is, a diplomat’s life is not easy. Not that it ever was.’ He looked around the room. ‘Don’t believe I’ve been this far north in the building before. But I do recall some story – before my time – of some of the secretaries squeezing out of that skylight to sunbathe nude on the roof. One of them’s supposed to have gotten herself stuck, and—’

‘What about Devereux, Johnnie?’ interrupted Parfit.

Gilchrist hated to have his stories ruined. His eyes blazed away at Parfit for several seconds, then he said simply: ‘He’s gone.’

‘Gone? You mean disappeared?’

‘Not in so many words. Apparently he was a bit shell-shocked when the shuttle crashed. So now he’s on extended leave.’

‘Do we know where?’

‘You won’t believe it, Parfit, but it seems he’s gone to London.’

‘London?’

Now Parfit and Dreyfuss exchanged glances.

‘I’m not sure,’ Parfit said, ‘whether that’s to our advantage or not. What do you think, Johnnie?’

‘Well, we can have him traced and picked up easily enough.’