The last of my own defences came down, as he knew they must. He was offering me a top controller, a top director in the field and virgin ground to break open for the Bureau. And he was showing me his despair. I had the wry thought that to go on refusing would amount to bad manners.

"If I took this on, I couldn't guarantee not to break any rules, if I had to."

"I realise that. I'm prepared to take the risk."

My head seemed suddenly clear.

"All right," I said.

"You accept the mission?"

"Yes. With you as my Control."

He turned quickly. "Mr Toms, you can start up as soon as you like. Tilson, get the bag from the car, will you?"

"What about briefing?" I asked him.

He came to stand close. "You'll be briefed in the field. At this end we know nothing except that Sinclair was bringing us information of some kind — information so vital that he couldn't entrust it to signals or a courier; and so vital that he had to be silenced."

"Is there a specific objective, at this stage?"

He stood closer still as the helicopter's rotor began chopping rhythmically at the air. "We want you to find out what Sinclair was trying to tell us. That's a high-risk objective, I know."

Tilson was hurrying past us, giving my bag to the flight lieutenant to stow in the freight bay. The girl was turning the car and moving it clear of the downwash area.

"How do we fly?" I asked Croder.

"You'll go from here to Benson and board an RAF personnel transport with the rest of the delegation and three more security officers. Ferris will meet you in Pekin."

"Understood."

He turned and led me across to the group of men, raising his voice above the noise of the rotor. "Let me present the Right Honourable George Bygreave, Secretary of State. These other gentlemen are Detective-Inspector Stanfield of New Scotland Yard, and — I'm sorry, I —»