'Best I could do.'

'You did all right'

Most of the lights were on in the building but the place sounded dead as if they'd made up their minds at last that the only thing to do was run. I used the stairs and went straight into Walford's room but he wasn't there and I had to barge into Field Briefing before I could find anyone.

'Where's Walford?'

'Sprained a ball.'

'Oh for Christ's sake.' I pulled off my trenchcoat and shook the rain off the collar, throwing it on a chair. They've never done anything about the environment at the Bureau: it's a fridge or an oven according to the season and this was August. 'Walford told me to get here, fully urgent.'

'That's right.'

Tilson was always like this: try blasting his eyes and he'd ask if you'd care for some tea.

'You mean he's not in the building?'

'All that matters to me, old horse, is that you are.' He picked up a phone, not hurrying. 'Quiller's come in. Cancel those last two cables, revamp the board and warn Clearance for tomorrow morning.'

He put the thing down and eyed me amiably. 'How were the geishas?'

'Listen, if Walford's not here, who do I see? Who's my director?'

'Director?'

'It is a job, isn't it?'

'As far as I know, old horse.'

'Then I want some orders.'

'What's the rush?'

I turned away so I wouldn't have to look at his pink amiable face. He wasn't doing it deliberately; this was just his character and maybe they'd put him in charge of Field Briefing because that's when your nerves tighten up a whole octave higher, right on the brink of a mission. Maybe they thought his sleepy-eyed approach to the thing would calm us down. It was driving me up the wall.

'Look, they whipped me over the North Pole and spat me out of the airport and we screamed the place down getting here in a squad car and now you ask me what's the rush, so for God's sake get on the blower and find out.'