'London wants you.' He was putting in his time as a duty-runner till he was fit enough for beating up.

'On the phone?'

'In the flesh.'

'Stuff London'

'Message understood' He drifted dismally away in a nimbus of Vicks Vapour Rub.

In the showers Kim said: 'Also one must narrow the eyes, you see, in the dark, and not stare about like that. With the eyes half closed, vision is only a little reduced, but the shine on the eyeballs is much less easy to discern.' It was civil of him not to point out that this was how he'd come up from behind me: he knew I was worried about that as well.

'All right, I'll remember.'

'Ah-ha-ha,' he sang through the steam in approval, much as Mum does when Wee Willie hits the potty first time. I was getting fed up. He'd pulled off a first at the Tokyo Games and we weren't expected to reach that standard but we weren't expected to be shown up as amateurs' either. I spun the taps to full cold and he noted the change in the noise. 'Also one must finish off with warm water, you see, following a training-bout, since the muscles require to relax.'

In London the fog was worse and even the pigeons were feeling the cold, huddling in rows along the windowsills. Below me a long stain of light crept through Whitehall, the traffic nose-to-tail.

'I'll take you in now.'

So it wasn't Parkis. He always keeps you hanging about to stop you getting ideas above your station. You never know who you're going to see when you're 'wanted in London' because the Bureau doesn't officially exist and if there's ever been a door here marked Information it's been wallpapered over.

She led me upstairs, her snagged heels ricketing on the rubber strips that were peeling away from the treads. On a landing I saw Fyson going into Reports, still looking a bit nervy about the eyes: someone's bright little op. had come unstuck in Israel, so we'd all heard, and they were being flown home, those who were left.