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the folder in front of him. ‘Because we must. This is, lady and gentlemen, the opening I believe we’ve long been waiting for: the chance to secure the release of hostages and shipping on a scale nobody has managed before.’ He smiled suddenly as if warmed by his own brilliance, and looked round as if for approval. ‘Anyone care for coffee?’

Four
    â€˜I nteresting idea,’ said the CIA’s deputy chief of station, James Scheider, who was staring at the briefing paper with a faint frown. ‘I’m not sure why it involves us, though, and not the Dutch. It’s their man and yours. According to our sources in the region, none of the captive aid workers is an American citizen.’
    â€˜I invited you as a courtesy, first of all,’ Moresby replied easily. ‘But in acknowledging your agency’s considerable knowledge of the region, any advice would be gratefully received. We will, of course, be bringing in the Dutch at the appropriate time.’
    Scheider shrugged. ‘Of course. Glad to help.’
    â€˜What support will this officer have?’ Vale queried. He was referring to hard protection and assistance. In areas such as the Middle East and eastern Africa, where tensions were high and dangers unpredictable, the general convention was to plan for trouble, which was why high-risk ventures usually involved armed escorts.
    â€˜Minimal.’ Moresby’s response was almost dismissive. ‘Too much accompanying traffic is likely to attract attention. There will, of course, be the standard operational rules and systems in place, and we’ll be keeping a close eye on the personnel involved throughout the transition.’
    â€˜How close?’ Vale insisted. He was growing increasingly worried by Moresby’s almost cavalier attitude, and neither Cousins nor Wilby had shown signs of concern beyond their initial comments. What the hell was going on? This was their back yard, but they were letting Moresby run the show.
Operational rules and systems
? He made it sound like a Health and Safety assessment. Didn’t he know how dangerous the world was out there?
    â€˜Communications traffic will be monitored throughout by GCHQ’s feeder stations in the region, and I hope our friends in the CIA and National Security Agency will offer whatever assistance they can.’ He looked at Scheider with raised eyebrows, adding, ‘It would be nice to have coverage via any drones you might have in the region.’
    Scheider nodded, as Vale knew he would. The CIA man was in a difficult position; saying an immediate no to the availability of unmanned camera drones or UAVs, used so effectively to track down insurgents in Iraq, Pakistan and Afghanistan, would not go down well; even a
maybe
would question his ability to make on-the-spot decisions without running back to his superiors.
    Vale had to intervene. As superb as they were at monitoring signals intelligence and comms networks around the world, GCHQ, the Government Communications Headquarters in Cheltenham, couldn’t perform miracles. ‘Satellites and drones are not the same as boots on the ground. There’s no protection if anything goes wrong, and camera footage merely gives us lots of nice grainy photos for the archives. These people need a support team.’
    Moresby turned to him with a faint huff of impatience. ‘I disagree. The risk to any personnel has been judged extremely unlikely, in view of Xasan’s assurances and his record so far. In any case, they will be on the ground for a brief period only – a couple of days at most.’ He waved a hand to emphasise his point and turned away.
    But Vale wasn’t finished. ‘They? So there’s more than one.’
    â€˜Yes. The officer will have an escort – a specialist. We demanded that and Xasan agreed.’
    â€˜And if anything does go wrong?’ Vale pressed him harder, if only for the record.
    â€˜Why should