‘You’re not going to like this, not after our chat about one… Sir Morris Beesely.’ He lifted his face out of the file. ‘Both the London Section Head of Mossad, and the London Deputy Section Chief of the CIA, visited our good friend Sir Morris today.’ She stared across her desk without comment. He continued, ‘We received an anonymous tip, complete with photos of them getting into a helicopter at Docklands.’
She eased back into her chair, staring incredulously at her assistant’s revelation, her head spinning with a hundred thoughts, the main one being that there were many things going on under her nose that she did not know about. Taking a breath, she composed herself. ‘Fix an appointment with our good friend Mr Beesely,’ she flatly ordered. ‘It’s about time I finally met the distinguished gentleman. Especially given that someone is nudging me that way.’
‘Funny you should say that.’ Willis produced a second page. ‘He just faxed us – on your direct fax line. It says that a chopper is ready anytime we are, to take us down to the country.’ Willis passed the fax to her. ‘It says the fishing is lovely this time of year.’ He clasped his hands behind his back. ‘I quite liked the little doodle of the man fishing.’