‘Security,’ he said. ‘Sanders here. I want George Villiers apprehended. Yes, that’s right. No, it’s not a joke. He’s trying to leave the building. I want him stopped.’ He slammed the receiver down again and looked to Hepton, who nodded at him in thanks.

‘Martin?’ Jilly was saying. She was holding the receiver out towards him. ‘Martin, they want to speak with you …’

The problem with the secure line, a line unlikely to be tapped into by prying ears, was that it made voices sound as though they were trapped somewhere between an anechoic chamber and a sardine tin. There was a flat, dull lifelessness to the sound, with occasional bursts of jangling metallic tone.

Was it any wonder then that Dreyfuss did not sound like the man Hepton had met one day for lunch with Jilly? But Hepton was intrigued by the secure line, too. Did it use a satellite link? And if so, how secure could it ever be? He took several deep breaths as he took the receiver from Jilly. She was shaking, and he placed a hand on her shoulder to let her know he was all right.

‘Is that you, Martin?’

‘Yes.’

‘Mike Dreyfuss here. What the hell’s going on?’

‘A man just tried to kill me. Lots of people seem to be trying to kill me of late. This one was a civil servant.’

‘Is Jilly okay?’

‘She’s fine.’ Hepton glanced across towards where Jilly, her arms folded in front of her, leaned against the wall. She nodded and smiled, confirming his opinion.

‘What?’ Dreyfuss seemed to be conferring with someone at his end of the line. ‘Hold on, Martin,’ he said. Then his voice was replaced by another.

‘Mr Hepton?’

‘Yes.’

‘My name’s Parfit. We haven’t spoken before.’

‘Parfit?’ Hepton repeated, his eyes on Sanders.

The young man, who had been pacing the room as though still unable to believe the scene he had just witnessed, drew himself upright at the sound of the name. His eyes turned to Hepton.

‘I work at the embassy here in Washington,’ Parfit was saying. ‘What’s all this about George Villiers?’

‘He wants me dead.’

‘But why, in God’s name?’

‘That’s a good question, Mr Parfit. It has something to do with the reason I’ve been trying to get in touch with Major Dreyfuss.’ There was a knock at the door. A uniformed guard opened it and had a short whispered conversation with Sanders.

‘Oh?’ Parfit sounded intrigued. ‘And what reason is that, Mr Hepton?’