Separating the den and the kitchen was a bar of dark hard wood, with three bar lights dangling down from the ceiling. A pair of fans lazily spun above...the gold carpet. Zoë kept herself from commenting on the luxury of the home as Michael escorted her into the den.“I’m sorry about his place, it’s a bit big… here we can work on the table. I’ll just go up and get my bag… I’ll be right back I promise.” As he made his way slowly up the steps he remembered something else and turned. “Help yourself to. The recruit is ready to take notes, SIR!”“Don’t be silly. And 327 is my MI6 designation. You make up your own. How did you find out, by the way?”“I play tennis with Ralph.”“Who?”“Ralph! Edgebaston? Your MI6 handler?”“Wouldn’t call him a handler. More of a hands-offler. Never even met the bastard. Now, what did you get from that recording I gave you?”John turned serious, but waited with his answer until my tea had arrived. Purely to get a rise out of me, they had organised a porcelain cup with. More

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