Parfit seemed to consider this. ‘Hmm,’ he said at last. Hepton wasn’t sure whether it was an interested ‘hmm’ or a sceptical ‘hmm’; the scrambler was still robbing the voices of any emotion. Then Parfit cleared his throat, and Hepton thought he could hear Dreyfuss whispering something, a name …

‘As Major Dreyfuss has just reminded me,’ Parfit said, ‘there is a man who might help us. His name is Cameron Devereux. He’s the other reason we called. Devereux was Major Dreyfuss’ contact at mission control. What you need to realise is that Argos was meant to crash, and with no survivors.’

‘A suicide mission?’

‘I doubt whether the crew knew that, though they must have known why they were up there in the first place. One of them tried to strangle Major Dreyfuss.’

‘Strangle Dreyfuss?’ Hepton saw the effect of his words on the room. Sanders, who was starting to sit, now stood up again, and Jilly looked aghast.

‘This man said something about needing to bury a coffin. Does that mean anything to you?’

‘No, nothing. So what about this Devereux?’

‘He might well know something about the sabotage. And if so, he may also know what the mission was.’

‘So talk to him.’

‘Yes, but he’s gone on vacation to London.’

Hepton rested against the edge of the table. ‘Has he now? And you’d like me to talk to him?’

‘Well, you might understand him better than we amateurs could.’

‘Okay, Mr Parfit. Where is he staying?’

‘A hotel on Park Lane, I believe. The Achilles. Our intelligence sources have just come up with it. He booked in yesterday.’

‘I’ll go there this evening.’

‘Good man. Take care, won’t you? If Harry’s supposed to have—’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Who’s there in the room with you? I mean, besides Miss Watson. I’ve already spoken with her. Or rather, I’ve already had her screaming at me that you were being murdered before her eyes.’

Hepton’s smile returned. Yes, ten minutes ago, Villiers had held a knife to his throat. Yet now he could smile about it, could brush it aside and get on with whatever action was necessary. He felt changed inside, in some profound way. He felt stronger.

‘Sanders is here.’

‘Sanders?’ Parfit recognised the name. ‘He’s a good man. Take him with you when you go to see Devereux. Any sign of Villiers?’

‘I think he’s escaped.’

‘Hmm. Well, he can’t get far. Put Sanders on, would you?’

‘Sure.’ Hepton held the receiver out. ‘Parfit wants a word,’ he said.