Shatner reached for the dented chromium ashtray on his desk. 'The Foreign Office suspected that the new generation of the Red Army Faction was involved, and asked us to make enquiries. I sent McCane out there.'

'The FO approached us, instead of DI6?

'We are able to do things, as you know, that DI6 cannot.'

'But I mean it's that sensitive?'

He flicked ash. 'I've been in Signals most of the night with some of our agents-in-place out there. They couldn't give me much more than a certain amount of raw intelligence, but the vibrations I'm getting are that there may be more to Maitland's death than some kind of crude wet affair.'

Yes indeed. They'd tagged McCane back to London and wiped him out as soon as they found him exposed. 'You didn't get anything useful from McCane when you debriefed him?'

'Surprisingly little. He ran into a lot of resistance when he started asking questions. His feeling was that people either didn't want to answer them, or were afraid to. That's not unusual, of course, when there's a strong terrorist faction at large and active.'

'Why did you call McCane in? For debriefing?' 'Partly.' He got up and went over to a window, freeing the fastener and thumping at the frame until it jerked open an inch, sending down flakes of paint. 'And partly because his enquiries led him to think that the person who might know more about what was going on is Maitland's wife. Widow.' He brushed bits of paint off his jacket and sat down again.

'And she lives in Reigate.'

'Yes. McCane was going there last night, to put up at a hotel and see her this morning.'

'That's where I start?

'That is where you start.' He crushed out his cigarette. 'I don't think I need to point out that you may well attract the attention of these people simply by showing up in Reigate. You don't normally like support, do you?