As the train slowed to a crawl and the platform appeared alongside the window she decided to avoid the press of the crowd and wait until most of the people had got off. It came to a complete stop with a jerk, and a gush of compressed air announced the opening of the doors. The passengers streamed out and when the carriage was almost empty Kathryn stood up with her hatbox and left her seat.

She was not the last person to alight from the carriage. Brennan climbed out of his seat after she stepped through the door and watched her walk down the platform. He felt a twinge in his leg where the bullet had grazed the bone and he flexed it a couple of times to loosen it up before stepping through to the next carriage. He kept Kathryn in his sights as he limped along the aisle, keeping slightly behind her.

The mass of passengers moved ahead of her, slowed by the funnel effect at the end of the platform. Kathryn noted she was on platform 9 and took her time so as not to catch them up. Her nerves started to increase again as the next phase of her ‘mission’ grew closer and she went over it in her head. None of it had been difficult so far but she kept dreading something might go wrong, be it her fault or anyone else’s. What if this next person didn’t turn up, for instance? What was she supposed to do with the box? She did have that emergency number. She told herself not to think about any of that unless it happened. There was no need to add to the stress she was already under.

As she stepped outside the platform she followed her instructions precisely and turned to the right, walked a few paces so that she was out of the flow of human traffic, and stopped.

She looked at almost every man that came into view even though for the most part she saw only the backs of their heads since more were leaving the platform than entering it. She hoped to find a pair of eyes looking at her. Then her peripheral vision picked up movement on her right, a lone man crossing the road, heading directly towards her.

Someone walked out of the alleyway behind her and bumped her in the back without offering an apology. Aggy flashed him a look and might have snapped a remark about his bad manners. Instead she stepped aside to allow the flow of passengers from the alleyway and watched Bill. She started to move off, slowly, giving him time to get ahead and for her to decide whether to catch him up. She had to keep with the possibility he was not on the op and it might therefore be wiser to leave him be. After his parting comment on the phone it would all be a bit strained anyway. Then he stopped to talk to a woman standing outside the station. Aggy stopped. If he turned to look in her direction, despite the people moving between them, he would see her. She should have turned around and walked back into the alleyway, but remained where she was.

Kathryn felt awkward. Not being given anything to reply suddenly seemed odd. She held out the box to him, eager to be rid of it anyway. ‘I think this is for you,’ she said, feeling as if she ought to say something. He took it from her.

‘Walk with me, will you?’ he said, and turned to indicate a direction away from the platform entrance, back the way he had just come.

The woman was pretty and quite sophisticated. It suddenly struck Aggy there was something vaguely familiar about the woman. She couldn’t begin to think where, but she was certain she had seen her before. Aggy had only been inside the Lisburn HQ briefly a couple of times on errands for the det. It was possible she’d seen her there, a passing in a corridor perhaps, but she could not recollect. Bill hadn’t kissed her on meeting, which was a clue the relationship was a professional one since Bill kissed just about every woman he met on the cheek whenever he said hello or goodbye. He kissed Aggy’s mother the first time they met and when she blushed he apologised in his charming way, explaining it was a habit he’d picked up in Europe. Apart from a brief exchange of words and the hatbox, Bill and the woman didn’t speak as they walked away.

Aggy watched until they were out of sight and then continued on her way to platform 9.The one thing niggling her was that Bill’s boss was a he.

She entered the platform and walked down to the far end and stepped into the last carriage.

The rear ramp of the helicopter was already opening as it landed. Singen was first out of the side door and hurried over to the vehicles to talk with several gentlemen waiting to greet him. After a brief exchange Singen looked back at his men coming down the ramp carrying their equipment boxes. ‘The two vans,’ he shouted as the rotors started to wind down. The men shuffled their equipment to the vans and started loading them, the three Americans equally energetic and helping where they could. ‘We’re moving straight out,’ Singen added.

Stratton stepped from the helicopter carrying one end of a large box, an operative on the other, and put it down outside a van, whereupon it was immediately hauled inside.

‘Stratton,’ Singen called out as he walked over to him.

‘That’s your vehicle there,’ he said indicating a plain white four-door. ‘Keys are in it. Superintendent,’ he called out to the group of gentlemen. A man in a black suit left them and briskly came over.

‘This is Superintendent Allison,’ Singen said. ‘He’s up to speed on the boat, Hank and the bio.’

Stratton shook the man’s hand and faced Singen again. ‘I’ll head off and do a recce and check on the det people. Let me know as soon as you’ve found a mounting area.’

‘Will do,’ Singen said, checking on the vans.

Stratton faced the superintendent. ‘Where exactly is the boat?’ he asked him getting out his map.

‘I’ve got a map already marked out for you,’ the police officer said as he took it from his pocket and opened it out on the bonnet of the car. ‘The boat’s tied up alongside the town quay. Do you know this area at all?’

‘No.’

‘This is exactly where the boat is.’ The Superintendent indicated a mark circled on the River Ouze that ran north/south along the west side of the town.

‘We’re going to need a noose around the boat, at least four hundred metres radius,’ Stratton said. We need to be able to close down the entire area in a second if the situation requires. That’s every road, alleyway, back door, wall, fence, sewer. Airtight.’

‘I understand,’ the officer said confidently.

‘And they’ll need to be armed,’ Stratton added.

‘The armoury’s being emptied as we speak.’

Stratton nodded, taking a moment to study the map and make sure he’d covered all his immediate needs. ‘Good to have you aboard, sir,’ Stratton finally said to the superintendent as he folded the map.

The police officer was suddenly flushed with pride, ready to fly to the moon if this lot asked him to. ‘Anything you need, just ask,’ he said.

Stratton looked around. Everyone was wearing black assault gear under civilian coats, except for him and the three Americans. ‘Lieutenant Stewart,’ he called out. Stewart was helping load a box into one of the vans and looked up to see it was Stratton calling him. Stewart walked over to him.

‘What’s your first name?’ Stratton asked.

‘Tom.’

‘Tom. Get your two guys into black and tooled up. You come with me. We’re gonna do a recce of the boat,’ Stratton said as he grabbed his bag and put it on the back seat of the car.

Tough as Stewart was, he couldn’t help but feel somewhat jazzed at being invited to accompany Stratton on the initial recce. Not only was it a compliment, it communicated that he and his boys were every bit a part of the team. It was becoming obvious Stratton had a way with soldiers.

‘Superintendent. Do you have a card?’ Stratton asked. The Superintendent reached into his pocket and found one. Stratton checked it. ‘I can get you on this mobile number?’ he asked.

‘Any time.’

Stratton climbed into the car. Stewart returned from instructing his men and climbed in beside him. Stratton handed him his own map that he had folded to show the area. ‘We’re there,’ he indicated. ‘Sandringham House.’

‘Yeah. Place looks great. Wish I’d brought my camera.’

‘We can probably wangle a discount on the tour later. I want to get on to this road, the A149. We’ll take it down to this roundabout here. Knight’s Hill. Then find our way to here, where the boat is. You all set?’

‘Yep.’

‘Tooled?’

Stewart opened his coat to reveal a regular cannon: a black, long-barrelled, 20-round 45 Magnum semi-automatic with dewdrop nose recoil stabiliser tightly secured in a quick-release shoulder holster. ‘Fucking Yanks,’ Stratton said, shaking his head with a smirk. ‘Don’t fire that thing at the boat or you’ll sink it.’

‘Just let me know,’ Stewart said, grinning for the first time since arriving in England. Stratton started the car and drove across the green on to a road that led to one of the huge ornate gates. Behind him the vans were already starting their engines as the last operative climbed in.

He turned on the radio, set the channel to 4, and put it inside his breast pocket. He faced Stewart and looked at him as if he was talking to him. ‘All stations, this is Stratton. Who’ve we got?’

There was the familiar sound of the secure communications system kicking in, his words being scrambled, then a voice unscrambling back to him. ‘Hello, Stratton. This is Ed, ’ere.’

‘Good to hear you, Ed,’ Stratton said. ‘Where are you?’

‘South of target, three fishing boats. I’m on one of ’em.’

‘What have we got?’

Ed was sitting back on the deck of the deserted fishing boat, hidden from view with a pair of binoculars pressed up against his eyes. ‘It’s a good possible,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen one face I think I recognise. Sean McKennen?’

‘Of the Warrenpoint McKennens,’ Stratton replied.

‘That’s right. He was out on deck just for a moment. ’Ad something bulky under ’is coat. Wouldn’t be surprised if it was an SMG.’

‘Any movement on or off the boat?’

‘Not since I got ’ere ’bout twenty minutes ago, but the boat ’ad been alongside a while, I think.’

‘Who else we got?’ asked Stratton.

‘Bobby’s up on the roof of the corn exchange. Says ’e’s got a good view of the boat deck.’

‘Bobby,’ Stratton said. ‘You hear me?’

‘Loud and clear, Stratton. This is a good location for a sniper. Can’t see faces too clearly.’

‘Roger that. Who else?’

‘Take a guess,’ Ed said.‘’E’s on the west bank, in the water, under a fuckin’ sewage pipe covered in shite.’

‘’Allo, Stratton,’ came a voice.

‘That you, Spinksy?’

Spinks, wearing a dry-bag and facemask, was tucked into the opposite bank to the boat, in the water up to his chin, some flotsam arranged nicely in front of him, with a dripping sewage pipe above him. ‘It’s me,’ he said.

‘What’s that location like?’

‘Fuckin’ ’orrible. No one’ll find me ’ere. Got the water side of the boat covered. Nothing’ll come off or on it without me seein’ it.’

‘Anything?’ Stratton asked.

‘I’m pretty sure that was McKennen too. Saw a bloke on the bridge who looked like he ’ad an SMG. ’Ard to say ’ow many on board. Seen five or six different blokes so far.’

‘How long you good for there?’

‘Fuck it. All night if you want. Got me flask and a bag a sarnies. ’Ad a piss already. Me right leg’s a bit cold. Might need a shit in a minute, but I don’t need to go anywhere for that, do I? I’m in a sewer.’

Stratton shook his head.

‘When are the super soldiers gettin’ ’ere?’ Ed asked in his usual sarcastic manner.

‘Soon.You’ll have at least one in each of your positions, except you, Spinks. You’re on your own.’

‘It’s the way I like it,’ said Spinks, as a large, black slimy something or other fell out of the pipe and landed in the water in front of him, splashing his face. He wiped a piece of muck off his facemask and maintained his vigil.

Stewart did a fine job of acting as if he was in conversation, with a nod here and there.

‘We need the police cut-offs and the guys in position asap,’ Stratton said. Lieutenant Stewart nodded automatically, but his mind was on the boat as he studied it over Stratton’s shoulder. ‘I’m talking to you, Tom.’

Stewart snapped out of his trance-like stare. ‘Right.’

They started back towards the car when Stratton’s mobile phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked the caller, hit a button and put it to his ear. ‘Yes,’ he said. It was Singen telling him they had located a mounting area in the back of the corn exchange not more than a hundred yards from the boat and that a police officer was waiting for Stratton at the church to guide him in. Stratton told him the police could go ahead and start laying in their invisible cordon.

Stratton climbed into the car, Stewart the other side. ‘I’ll drop you off at the church where a cop’ll take you into the mounting area,’ Stratton said.

‘Where you going?’ Stewart asked.

‘The train station. Nothing’s going to happen here for a while and one of my det operatives should be arriving there now.’

‘Hi,’ she said, offering a slight smile but unable to control a sudden awkward feeling.

‘Good trip?’ Stratton asked, at a loss for any other words of greeting.Their previous comments about looking forward to seeing each other hung thickly in the air.

‘So, what’s this all about?’ she said, getting down to business.

‘A RIRA weapons boat,’ Stratton said. ‘It’s in the town. You know about the Yank who was kidnapped in Paris?’

‘He’s on it?’

‘Not confirmed but it’s a good possible.’

‘And weapons?’

‘Unconfirmed,’ he said. Stratton chose not to tell her about the bio. It was still need to know and she didn’t need to. Hank was enough for her to do her job, for the time being at least. If the situation changed she was cleared to hear all the facts, but it was not necessary at the moment.

‘Ed, Spinks and Bob are on target. One of our assault teams is in a holding area close to the boat. It’s the usual sit, wait and watch sketch.’

She nodded. The routine was certainly a familiar one. They drove along a road that wound through the town and led to the quay. Stratton slowed a little as masts came into view in the distance. He noticed two police cars parked in a side street. A glance the other side of the road and he saw another. Aggy was staring ahead and didn’t notice.

‘See the fishing boats on the left?’ he asked her.

‘Yes.’

‘They’re left of the target. Ed’s on one of those. We’ll turn right on to the quay and do a pass. The building to the right, at the end, is what we’re calling the corn exchange. M squadron are in the back.’

They approached the quay and the road turned right on to it. There was only one ship alongside.

‘That it?’ she asked.

‘The Alpha Star.’

They drove at normal speed along the quay, passing the boat on their left. Aggy took a quick look, taking in as much information as she could in a few seconds, enough to see there was no sign of life on deck. Until she caught a glimpse of movement on the bridge.

‘Spinks is in the water the other side. Bob’s on the roof of the exchange,’ he said as they left the boat behind them and headed along the quay.

‘Is the green light up to the ground commander or the gods on high?’ she asked.

‘The gods are calling this one. There are complications.’ She glanced at him. That meant there was more to it but she wasn’t in the loop. That was unusual. It was obviously big. ‘What’s my job?’

‘For the moment, hang tight with me. If anyone goes foxtrot from the boat you’ll take ’em. We’ve got an armed police airlock in place.’

Stratton reached the end of the quay where he and Stewart had stood earlier. He turned the corner, parked out of sight from the boat and killed the engine. The sun had already dropped beyond the horizon and lights were coming on in the surrounding houses.

Pedestrian traffic was light but constant; the main shopping area of Lynn was nearby and the northern end of the quay was a convenient place to park.

This was all too familiar for them both, parked up in a car, waiting for something to happen, a wait that might last hours. There was almost a skill involved in killing time like that, for hours on end, without looking unnatural. It was obviously much easier for a man and a woman together to remain unnoticed as opposed to two men, if they played the role comfortably, that is. Although a man and woman sitting in the front of a car staring ahead and not talking or touching looked just as conspicuous.

Stratton placed his arm over the back of Aggy’s seat and leaned closer to her. She leaned a little towards him, his chin close to the side of her face. She could hear his breath and feel his strength, and was reminded of the last - and only other - time they were this close together. How could she ever forget it?

They were in a car they had backed up a farm track just off a main road that led into Cookstown, Country Tyrone. They were there for most of the night, until three a.m., while a team changed the batteries to a bug the det had placed in a house a couple of years previously. All that time the bug had yielded little information, and now that it was dying, the occupants, who had originally suspected a device of some kind, had seemingly forgotten about their fears and were starting to become chatty. Aggy was the driver on that occasion. If they got wind from the operatives inside the house that something suspicious was happening outside she was to head into the town and drop off her warrior.

Up until that night she had not thought about him in any kind of amorous way. Indeed, she had found him attractive but he was one of those super soldiers, highly professional and leagues above her mere status of undercover operative - and a green one at that. And besides, everything about him said ‘loner’. But that night something happened to drastically change her feelings towards him, or waken them.

A car had driven slowly past their front along the road from the town and Stratton put his head close to hers and nuzzled his face into her neck, playing the game. She watched the car slowly head on up the road; but as it moved out of her vision, she was suddenly aware of Stratton in a way and with a sensitivity she had never experienced before with anyone. She inhaled his smell, felt his cheek against her ear, his hair against her face. Something was happening to her. Without warning, she quivered and drew in a slight, sharp breath.

She remained frozen, refusing to respond further, but her body was screaming out for him to touch her more. Her wish was immediately granted, as if he’d heard, and he moved his other arm around her to hold the side of her face. She was aware he was looking behind her neck, out of the window, monitoring the vehicle’s progress, but still she felt small in his powerful arms, protected. She did not know how long they stayed like that; it might have been minutes or barely seconds. Then the car turned around in the road, its headlights flashing across their front, and headed back towards them. Stratton took Aggy’s face gently with his hand, pulled it towards his, their noses touched and he put his lips against hers. The car slowly passed. They held the kiss, their mouths opening, their tongues finding each other’s. It was only when the car’s lights were almost out of sight and he gently pulled his lips from hers to check it had driven off did she realise her eyes were closed and she’d been holding the side of his face.

‘That might’ve been a pass,’ he said, meaning they had possibly just been checked out by the enemy. They stayed close for a while longer, Stratton looking for the car, and Aggy looking at Stratton. She wanted the car to come back.

She would never forget that moment he kissed her, certain she had felt him quiver as she did. He had been tender and gentle in a way it was hard to believe Stratton capable of. The way he slowly parted his lips from hers at the end of the kiss was as if he too wanted the moment to continue. But when they returned to the detachment in the early hours, before the sun had yet risen, it was as if nothing had happened. He went into the ops room to write his report without even saying goodnight.

For the rest of his time at the det he hardly spoke to her other than when work required it. Her only hint that there was something between them was the times she sensed him watching her, from the other side of the room, and their eyes locked as she looked up. The day he left she was on the ground on an op. She didn’t know he was leaving. It was all quite sudden, to do with the run over the border when he rescued Spinks. The det was an empty place from that day on in many ways; gone was that special added attraction at meals, briefings and piss-ups, because he would no longer be there.

She had thought she had moved on from there, but now she was close beside him again and could smell him and feel his strength around her, all her feelings came flooding back.

Aggy would have been surprised if she knew how often Stratton thought of that night outside Cookstown. Had it not been for the kiss she might have remained just another pretty girl to him, one who perhaps had something alluring about her, but never finding out just what it was. The kiss was like nothing he had felt before.At least he had never thought about one so much after. He put it down to the moment. ‘Love’ in action was like a holiday affair; more shouldn’t be squeezed out of it than it had to offer. But either he had not squeezed enough or it was more than just a moment brought about by unusual circumstances.

But the unexpected arousal was all the more reason for Stratton to walk away. His position within the world of special operations was complicated enough without bringing a love affair into it. In a trade that required heartlessness it was unwise to cultivate emotions. Stratton had worked hard at suffocating his feelings since those early days, his childhood, cherishing what little love he received, always wanting more. He’d had none passing through adolescence to manhood and had turned his apparent reclusiveness to his advantage, weaning himself off the need for affection. Perhaps one day in the future, if he survived this ridiculous occupation, he hoped to find love, if he was able to recognise it by then. But not now.

Now, almost a year after that night outside Cookstown, close to her again, the temptation to kiss Aggy was strong. But he sensed something was different about her now. He didn’t know what, but she had changed in some way. For instance, he didn’t remember her wearing perfume before.

‘When did you start wearing perfume?’

‘Today.’

‘Why today?’ As soon as he said it he wondered if she had worn it for him.

‘I put it on before you called. I wouldn’t have had I known I was working.’

She felt guilty at hiding the truth from him. She’d already lied to one man today - her lover. She didn’t want to lie to the one she hoped one day to be in love with. ‘I had a date tonight.’

Stratton found himself feeling disappointed to hear the perfume was for someone else.

‘A guy?’ he asked, then realising his faux pas, ‘I didn’t mean it to sound that way.’

‘Yes, a man,’ she said. ‘And no offence taken.’ She was used to it. She’d hoped at least Stratton might have understood why she played down her looks in NI, but it seemed he wasn’t as all-knowing as she thought.

‘When this is over I’ll arrange for you to have a few days off,’ he said. Her private life was none of his business and he shouldn’t have shown interest. She was with someone else and that was for the best. But a part of him saw her as his. These feelings grown men often had for women were so bloody irritatingly childish.

Aggy felt she was starting to figure Stratton out, well, an aspect of him at least. She was certain he liked her but suspected that, as far as women were concerned, he needed a wide open door with a big welcome sign above it before he could walk through it. Strange for such a tough guy. She should come clean and tell him how she felt.

‘Stratton,’ she said, and then suddenly realised he was not the only one who needed some encouragement. Perhaps this was a mistake.

‘What?’

‘Um . . . Nothing.’

Stratton was curious about her relationship but at the same time annoyed at himself for being so. For someone who didn’t want a relationship he was sure acting like someone who did. Whatever, he had to know.

‘This a serious relationship?’ he asked.

‘No. Not really.’What the hell, she decided. She was going to get this out into the open here and now. ‘You know him,’ she said.

Stratton looked at her. ‘One of the det guys?’ he asked.

‘No, well, kind of . . . Bill Lawton.’

‘The LO?’ He was so surprised he almost turned in his seat.

She didn’t think he would be quite so shocked. ‘It just happened . . . We met on a flight to London.’

‘How long ago was that?’ Stratton asked, wondering if it was while he was in the det.

‘Three weeks.’

Stratton was relieved in some small way. He didn’t know much about Lawton. He was MI5, pure int and Stratton was SF. Their paths crossed only when Lawton came to the det to hand over intelligence. He never rated Lawton as a particularly good liaison officer. An LO’s job was to bring in information pertinent to the detachment’s needs, create operations, provide key pieces to puzzles. But it wasn’t just a case of going around and plucking the information off desks. At this level of the game, quality int was closely guarded and not given up easily, even to those on the same side who needed it most. Information was often bartered and exchanged. Special Branch officers and those who ran intelligence cells had to be coaxed, unless they offered it first, which meant a favour or an exchange. A good LO had to have certain qualities. He needed to be charming as well as manipulative, be able to party hard, especially with Irish Special Branch officers, but not forget his objective. Lawton just never seemed to come up with the top-quality intelligence that the det needed. Occasionally he plucked a cherry, but not often enough. And he had yet to come up with the big one, which was every LO’s dream, but apparently not his.

‘He bought me the perfume,’ Aggy said.

‘It’s nice,’ Stratton said. ‘Can I suggest you don’t put so much on?’

Bastard, she thought. ‘It’s supposed to be very good. The best they had on the flight.’

‘I didn’t know they sold perfume on the flight between Aldergrove and London,’ he said, wishing he wasn’t having this conversation any more.

‘They don’t.’

‘You went on holiday together then?’ he asked, deciding he was going to drop the subject. He was beginning to sound jealous even to himself.

She rolled her eyes, but was nonetheless encouraged by his jealousy. ‘No. He’d been to Europe for the night.’

A tiny ding went off in his head, not quite suspicion, but the natural machinery inside an intelligence operative’s brain moved a single cog. ‘When was that?’

‘Three weekends ago.’

Another clog clunked forward, this time with a little more resonance. Stratton would have been interested in anyone who had been to Europe three weekends ago.An MI5 operative got his attention.

‘He told you he’d flown to Europe?’

‘No. But I told you he’d bought the perfume on a flight.’

‘How do you know?’

Because it was written on the back of the bottle. British Airways.’

‘How do you know it was Europe?’

‘Because it wasn’t duty free.’

‘What day was that?’

She could sense the change in him. He’d gone from matter-of-fact mild irritation to a more intense curiosity. ‘What day was what?’

‘What day did he fly to Europe?’

‘Well. We flew to London from Aldergrove on the Friday morning. He said he wanted to take me to dinner that night but couldn’t. We met Saturday evening and he gave me the perfume.’

‘The twenty-third?’

‘Yes.’

The day Hank was lifted in Paris. Stratton’s mind was reeling.

‘I know he’s not a man’s man,’ she went on, ‘but he’s a lot of fun. You don’t like him very much, do you?’

Stratton’s earpiece suddenly buzzed to life. It was Singen. He touched a button on the radio in his pocket.

‘Send,’ he said.

‘We’re moving the snipers into position.’

‘Roger that,’ Stratton said and opened the car door.

‘What is it?’ Aggy asked.

‘The snipers are moving up . . . I’ll just be a minute.’

‘Stratton?’ she said as he started to climb out. ‘I don’t know what Hank looks like. Might be useful.’

‘In my bag. There’s an ops file. Be careful rummaging around in it.’

As he climbed out she leaned over the seat and opened the bag. Inside were several guns, magazines, boxes of ammunition and things that looked like explosives, which she did not want to touch. ‘And they talk about women’s handbags,’ she muttered as she found the file and pulled it out.

Stratton had got out of the car to put his thoughts in order. Lawton knew everything about the Spinks operation a week before it took place. It would also explain why the Paris op went tits up. The team was rumbled by Henri at the meeting place not because they had cocked up the surveillance but because the mole was watching the café. The mole telephoned the café and told Henri the meeting was cancelled because he saw something that alarmed him, an operative. Stratton was near the café. It was Stratton the mole recognised. If they could put Lawton in Paris the morning of the 23rd he was their man.

He pulled his mobile phone from his pocket, hit a memory button, and held it to his ear. A few seconds later it was picked up the other end. ‘Sumners here,’ the voice said.

‘It’s Stratton. Do you know a Bill Lawton?’

‘Bill Lawton,’ Sumners repeated. ‘Can’t say I do.’

‘He’s an NI detachment LO, South det, also MI5. It is possible he was in Paris on the twenty-third.’

Sumners knew exactly what Stratton was suggesting.‘Spell the name,’ he said as he grabbed a pen.

‘L-A-W-T-O-N.’

‘Okay,’ Sumners said. Stratton put the phone back in his pocket.

He looked at Aggy in the car reading the file. He didn’t suspect her of being involved. If Lawton was his man he didn’t need her to gain information about the dets. He knew more about them than she did. And she wouldn’t have told Stratton what she had if she was aware Lawton was the mole. But she was guilty by association. It would mean the end of her career. In the intelligence world no one took chances they didn’t have to. When the question came up about Aggy, as it most definitely would, she would be discharged from the intelligence world, because nothing would be gained from not doing so, but there was a million to one chance something could be lost if she remained. It would follow that she would be kicked out of the army. The blemish would follow her through her life. Even those associated with her, boyfriends, lovers and whatever else, would be highlighted. If Stratton told Sumners now, he would order her pulled from the op, and from the detachment too. But she would not know why, not until it was all over, and perhaps not even then.

He climbed back into the car feeling anxious. He wanted this op to get going, assault the boat, find Hank, the bio - and then get on with Lawton. He would protect Aggy as best he could but it would be difficult, perhaps impossible. He looked at her innocently concentrating on the file, unaware her life was in such turmoil, and he was filled with an urge to look after her.

Aggy looked up from the file, something troubling her. ‘Is Bill Lawton on this op?’

Stratton wondered where that question came from. ‘Why do you ask?’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I shouldn’t have. Forget I said anything.’

‘Why? Tell me.’

‘I was out of order. I should know better than to ask questions like that.’

‘Tell me.’

‘I saw something I shouldn’t have and you know the rules about that.’

He took her arm strongly. ‘I want to know why you asked that question,’ he said.

She wondered if this was a more intense kind of jealousy, and then saw something far darker in his eyes. She showed him the file, a photograph of Hank and his wife, filling the page.

Stratton glanced at it.

‘If I wasn’t supposed to see her meet him at King’s Cross I did, that’s all.’

Stratton couldn’t quite believe, or assimilate quickly enough, what he had heard. ‘Are you certain?’

‘Pretty much. King’s Cross, platform 9 to King’s Lynn, where you told me to go. I saw Lawton meet her.’

‘You saw Bill Lawton meet that woman in King’s Cross?’

‘I’m pretty certain.’

‘How certain?’

‘It’s what I do for a living. Watch people. They virtually walked right past me.’

‘Was he on the train with her?’

‘No. She was standing outside the platform waiting. He came from across the street. They met. She handed him a hatbox, or what looked like one—’

‘When?’ he interrupted brusquely.

‘Just before I caught the train here.’ She checked her watch. ‘Two and a half hours ago.’

Stratton took a moment to think the possibilities through, trying to pull together all the information.

‘How sure are you it was them? I know the business Aggy, I know it isn’t always easy to match a photograph to a real person?’

‘So do I,’ she said, not offended by his cross-examination. ‘Bill, obviously, I know. The first profile I had of her was almost the same as this photo. She has the same hair. Same eyes. She’s pretty, and she had the same expression, a little sad maybe, as if she was listening to the answer to a sad question. You know what I mean? I wouldn’t stake my life on it, but I’d call out a team.’

Stratton had a lot of confidence in Aggy. She might not be the best driver in the unit but she was good on the ground, good at surveillance. The other operatives made fun of her in camp but they believed her on the ground. They would all admit to that.

He started the car and accelerated hard to take the corner sharply and speed up the street. Aggy grabbed the door handle and dash, surprised by his sudden activity.

‘Did he see you?’

‘No.’

‘You sure?’

‘What is this all about?’ she asked.

‘Did he see you?’ Stratton shouted.

‘No!’ she shouted back.

Stratton pushed a button on his radio. ‘Zero Alpha?’ he called out as he took the next corner sharply, sliding the back end a little.

‘Send,’ came the reply.

‘I’m heading for London. I’ll explain later.’

‘Em, roger that,’ said Singen.

Stratton disconnected and turned on to a main road. ‘Check and see if there’s a blue light inside the glove compartment.’

Aggy was experienced enough to switch into high gear even though she had no idea why. The glove compartment was empty.

‘Try the back, behind the seats.’ Aggy stretched over the seat as Stratton went through a red light. When she came back she was holding a blue police light with a long lead from it. She plugged it into the lighter and it started to spin and flash. She opened her window and placed it on the roof, where the base magnets held it firm.

‘You know where Lawton lives?’

‘Yes,’ she said. Her eyes flashed between him and the road ahead, hoping he’d tell her what this was about.

Stratton weighed all he had so far: Aggy, Lawton, the growing implications. He was going to need her help with whatever was coming up. She wasn’t a spy for RIRA. She was on his side.Time could be short, and perhaps there were other things she knew about Lawton that would be meaningless to her unless she knew the whole story. She’d learn about Lawton soon enough anyway. She needed to know. ‘I believe Lawton’s a spy for RIRA,’ he said. ‘A mole.’

They hit a major roundabout, ignored several more red lights, caused a bus and a car to emergency stop, and belted off down a road signposted to London. Aggy hardly noticed the near misses, dumbstruck by what she had just heard.

Stratton took out his mobile phone, hit a button, and waited for the call to be picked up.

‘Sumners? Anything on Lawton yet?

‘I’ve put it into the system but it’s not the hottest priority right now.’

‘You might be wrong. Two and a half hours ago he met Chief Munro’s wife at King’s Cross station outside platform 9, where a train from King’s Lynn had just arrived, and she handed him a parcel.’

There was a moment’s silence before Sumners answered. ‘Holy mother of God.’

‘I’m heading into London. Be there in two hours plus. I’m gonna need a team on standby.’

‘I’ll get on it right away.’

Stratton was just about to hang up when he heard Sumners call his name. ‘Stratton? Wait! How did you come by this?’ he asked.

‘Luck. One of the det operatives on the way to Lynn for the op happened to see Lawton and recognised Mrs Munro from the ops file.’

‘We needed some luck; hope this is it.’

Stratton pocketed the phone and dropped a gear to overtake two cars on a sweeping bend. As he passed them he knocked back up into fifth and gained speed along the straight. It might take Sumners a while to figure out that Stratton had asked about Lawton being on a flight to Paris before he told him he was seen at King’s Cross. It was probably going to be impossible to protect Aggy but he would continue to explore the options for as long as he could. Of course, it didn’t mean Lawton had the bio but the implications were huge and irresponsible to ignore. Besides all else, it gave Stratton the excuse he needed to go after him. This was a bigger fish than the boat assault.

Aggy felt dazed. She couldn’t believe this was happening to her. She had figured her way through all the implications, what it meant to her career, her life and to her relationships in the military. It was all too horrible to contemplate. Her world had turned upside down. She suddenly felt a long, long way from Stratton.