‘I have no doubt that Rome has been exposed,’ said Kalenin forcefully. He was aware of Kastanazy’s facial expression, something like a wince.

‘The embassy or the source?’ queried Zemskov.

‘It’s too early to be positive,’ said Kalenin. ‘At the moment I think only the embassy.’

‘Can it be saved?’

‘I’m formulating proposals,’ said Kalenin. ‘The European Summit creates a difficult time limit.’

‘We must have internal access to that conference,’ insisted Zemskov. ‘Decisions will be made affecting every one of our satellite borders in Europe. And not just Europe: Greece will be attending this year for the first time, so it’s the Mediterranean as well. It’s essential we know what happens.’

‘It’s precisely because of that importance that the British will want it settled before it begins,’ reminded Kalenin. Heavily he added, ‘And why the killings should not have been risked.’

‘What do you propose?’ asked the First Secretary.

‘To let them.’

‘What!’ Zemskov’s astonished reaction led the stir that went around the table.

‘I’m going to give them what they’re looking for,’ announced Kalenin. ‘Two, in fact. The British already regard one as a traitor: it’ll make it easy for them to accept the other.’

‘How long?’

‘A week, I hope. A fortnight as the outside.’

‘Which would leave more than a week to the Summit?’

‘Yes.’

Zemskov coughed, an unpleasant sound. ‘A great deal depends upon this, Comrade General.’

‘I know,’ said Kalenin.

Further along the table Kastanazy blew his nose, and quickly wiped his forehead. To Kalenin, Zemskov said, ‘Proper gratitude will be expressed, for success.’

Kalenin showed no reaction to the promise for which he’d been hoping. Save Rome, and the seat would be his.