Townsend frowned at his bica coffee, half turned and waved the waiter over.
 
“Another?” asked the waiter.
 
“Yes.  No.  A coffee, only bigger.  Comprende?  Bigger.”  He mimed bigger, in case the waiter hadn’t dealt with British tourists all year.  “Bigg – er.”
 
“Sim.”  The waiter took the cup.
 
“With some milk.”
 
Sue shook her head in resignation.  “Um galao,” she explained.  “Por favor.”  Entertaining as it was to see the Major drown in a culture outside the office tea lady, it was too painful to see the waiter struggle to keep his smile in place.
 
Townsend watched as the waiter disappeared into the darkness of the restaurant, then he turned back to her.
 
“It’s a simple job.”  He pushed a thumb drive across the table and hit the transmit button.  “It’s all on there.”
 
“Why?” said Sue, ignoring the drive.  Mark would be downloading it anyway.
 
“Sorry?”
 
“You have your own pairs.  Why us?”
 
“They’re not available.”
 
“Lie,” said Mark.
 
Sue sighed.  “Do we have to do this?  You know we can tell when you’re lying.  Why bother?  Seriously.”
 
Townsend shrugged.  “I believe the phrase is, ‘need to know’.”
 
“You want it off the books.  So it’s illegal or fatal.  Maybe both.”
 
“It’s not dangerous.  Or illegal.”  He shrugged again.  “Not any more than a normal op, anyway.”
 
“Mostly true,” said Mark.  “He’s holding back, though.”
 
“So why do you want it off the books?”
 
Townsend glanced at her collarbone again.  He had a wedding ring, Sue noted.  That explained the divorce, then, because a child could read his body language.  Any infidelity would be screamed aloud to anyone who knew him.
 
“Can you switch off his interface for a moment?”
 
“Can do,” said Sue.  “Not going to.”
 
He sat back in his chair and stared at her.  The waiter appeared with the drinks, then took up his station again.
 
“You’re unique, you know that?” he said at last.
 
“Yeah, I’m special.  My mum said so.”
 
“Before the Sentient Act, we simply wiped them and started again when someone left.”
 
“Wiped.  That’s a nice euphemism.”
 
Townsend had the grace to look awkward.  “Well, that was how it was back then.  Now, they’re imprinted on something else.  The regiment, the country, even a building.  Not their partner.  Plus the terms of service make it harder to walk.  Your terms of service fell right between the two.  A few weeks earlier or later…”
 
“Woulda, shoulda, coulda.  Boo-hoo.  You going to answer the question?”
 
“Are you going to read the drive?”
 
“Already done,” said Mark, in her ear.
 
“Done.  Put it away.”
 
Townsend reached across, switched off the drive and replaced it in his pocket.
 
“So why us?” pressed Sue.
 
Townsend sighed.  “Regardless of your status, you’re bound by the Official Secrets Act.”
 
“I am a bloody official secret.  You call my loyalty into question and I’ll put you in hospital here and now.”
 
“The target.  We have our doubts about him.  There’s certain… anyway, we need to ascertain his loyalty, whether he’s going to betray his country in any way.”
 
“Still not answering the question.  Why does this have to be off the books?  Why not one of your other pairs?”  Sue watched him as he took a sip of his coffee, a delaying tactic as he tried to decide what he was going to do.  “I can get the answer out of you.  That’s what we were trained in.  You must know that.  Jesus!”
 
“What?” asked Townsend and Mark in tandem.
 
“You don’t even work for the department!”
 
Townsend attempted a poker face.
 
“Bullseye,” said Mark in her ear.  “Nicely deduced.  Internal politics?”
 
“So that’s why you want us.  You don’t have assets yourself.  So what?  You want his office?”
 
“The target,” said Townsend.  He pushed the handle of his galao, turning the glass in the saucer.  “He’s in your old unit.”
 
“And?”
 
“Well, when I say in, he’s more in charge.  Of the assets, I mean.  We can’t use any of them, even if they have higher loyalties, because he knows them.  We need you, because you’re invisible.”
 
“True,” said Mark.  “And he really didn’t want to admit that.”
 
“What do you suspect he’s going to do?” asked Sue.
 
“We think he may have had overtures from the Spanish.  We need to know if he has, and what he’s going to do about it.”
 
“The Spanish?”
 
“It’s on the drive.”
 
“I’m a slow reader.  Humour me.”
 
Townsend looked around, looking at the sparse trickle of tourists on the road.  “Inside,” he said.
 
They rose and picked up their glasses.
 
“Muito sol. Dentro?” Sue told the waiter.  He stepped aside and swept his arm in invitation to the dark interior of the restaurant.
 
They sat at a table under a wall display of empty wine bottles.
 
“Okay,” said Townsend, once they had sat and arranged the glasses, and he was assured they weren’t overheard.  “Catalonia.  Complete cockup.  Totally mishandled on both sides, and now, being politicians, neither side can give an inch.  Never mind the blood on the street, if you can blame the other side for it.  But it can’t go on, obviously, because both are going to lose.  Money’s leaving faster than a drunk at a casino.  They need to sort it out, but Spain won’t talk to Catalonia, and vice versa.  Spain holds the presidency of the EU so Europe can do sod all about it.”
 
“And?” asked Sue.
 
“And so they need a neutral intermediary, a neutral location, someone who can act as a go between both sides trust.”  Townsend sat back and threw his arms wide.  “Hello, the UK and Portugal.”
 
“Excuse me?”
 
Townsend leant forward again.  “Okay, so we’ve got experience.  Scotland, Wales, the whole devolution thing.  For decades we’ve squared the circle, not denied them, not given in to them.  Both Catalonia and Spain recognise our expertise in that.  But we need neutral ground.  The UK/Portugal alliance is the oldest in the world.  Treaty of Windsor.  Fourteenth century.  So we’re refereeing the whole thing.  They won’t sit in the same room, but we play Chinese whispers between them.  Now, we can’t afford to fail.  Never mind this is all secret squirrel and no one knows it’s going on.  We have to be seen to broker an agreement.  And one that’s fair and acceptable on both sides.  That’s where your people come in.”
 
“My people?”
 
“Pairs.  They suss out how honest people are being, how final a final offer is, how far we’ve got to manoeuvre.”
 
“And the target?”
 
Townsend took another gulp and grimaced.  “We suspect Spain might have approached our man.  If the flow of intelligence tilted towards one side, well, we could end up with shit on our face, and that’s not something His Majesty’s Government is amenable to.  So get your shit together and get your arse down to Lisbon.  There’s a train this evening at 18:00.”
 
“No,” said Mark.
 
“This evening?” said Sue, aloud.
 
“I said, we’re seeing the university A.I. tomorrow.  We have to delay until then.”
 
“Tempus fugit,” said Townsend.
 
“I mean it,” said Mark.  “It’s important.”
 
Sue shook her head.  “We need to study the files, and suss out the city remotely before we knock on the front door.  Twenty-four hours at least.”
 
“You can’t run, you know,” said Townsend.
 
Sue looked up at the ceiling in exasperation.  “God save me from amateurs.  We don’t just jump in with both feet.  We have to prep.  You want this to go tits up in the first five minutes?”
 
Townsend stared at her.  “Twenty-four hours,” he said at last.
 
“We go when we’re ready.”
 
“Twenty-four hours, or I go to the Portuguese authorities.”
 
Sue turned and waved to the waiter.  “A conta, por favour.  You’re picking up the tab, right?”  She downed the tonic water and rose.  “One more thing.  We’ll know the minute you try and screw us, and I swear to God I will kill you in that moment.”
 
She turned and strode out of the restaurant.