'Tell him that if he can't get here in time, I'll send someone along to clear him on the plane.' He came into the corridor again and saw me and gave me a direct look, taking in the nerves and the fatigue. 'Oh yes, you want to talk to me, don't you?' He led me along to his room on the other side of Codes and Ciphers, dropping into one of the big leather chairs with the torn hide, stuffing coming out of them in places – they'd furnished this whole building from a discount junk shop, typical of them, won't spend a bloody penny if they can help it, you try fiddling your expense sheet and they'll go for the throat.

'Tilney's spoken to me.'

I took the other chair and got a whiff of ancient horsehair as I sat down. I didn't say anything.

'You've nothing you want to add?' He watched me with no particular expression, a man with dark untidy hair and bags under his eyes and a flat night-shift pallor, leaning forward, attentive. 'Nothing you want to tell me, I mean, as McCane's control, that you might not have wanted to confide to Tilney.'

'No.'

When you're debriefed, you're debriefed; I never keep anything back unless it's to protect someone. Perhaps that was what Shatner meant. I'd never thought McCane was especially good on security, for instance, talked a bit too much when there were people around, didn't take overmuch care to check his environment for ticks, peeps, bugs. It could have got him killed last night: he might have talked to someone about where he was going, and then realised it had been dangerous; that could have been his reason for phoning me, to cover himself.

Shatner said, Then I don't know why you want to see me.'

'You were McCane's control. I was there when they got him. There might be questions you want to ask. I might not have covered everything with Tilney. Another thing is, I'd like to take over.'