Page 8 - double revenge 3.

Some had initially referred to us as the “Pillow Talk Office”. I never knew if that was a disparaging
reference to the closeness of Margaret and Ronald or a cynical reference to the fact that Anne, my

wife, still worked for MI6. George liked to think of us as “The Cottage”.

George Mcluskey and I went back many years. He had been my controller in Berlin when I was
working the other side of the wall. He it was who had brought me in to look after the mainland
affairs of the new department. He too needed a safe pair of hands, someone who could liaise with
all the security services without giving too much away as well as keep them at arm’s length when
necessary.

I turned my gaze to the outsider, Alfred Barker. He looked like someone who could handle himself
and a slight bend to his nose gave rise to the thought that he may have suffered a broken nose at
some time, possibly in the ring. His work suit was a great deal better quality than my Sunday best,
which placed him on a much higher salary scale than me.

He had been introduced as Research and Analysis Response Director. No one had enquired why he
was interested in a crooked investment advisor or what his response would be and he hadn’t
proffered any reason, which strengthened my view further that this was not a simple missing

persons.

‘I think, Bryant, you should get down to the FRC and see who has been trying to buy themselves a
new identity recently.’

I was glad of George’s abrupt dismissal. I had the briefing notes and all George could do was to read
from them. Collinson and Barker were adding little so I left George explaining how Taylor House
could provide the birth certificate of a child who died in early infancy enabling anyone to establish a
new persona in that child’s name. He was right, of course but I was making my way instead to the
watering hole of the man I had a hunch could provide me with much more information on Arnold
Warner than contained in the brief.

Francisco, Alfredo, Maria de Angeles Delgado. Mex to his friends.

He worked for the CIA Directorate of Support as European Global Services Officer based in London.

Mex was my immediate contact at the American Embassy.

The Bricklayers was a pub just off the Edgware Road and a ten-minute walk from the American

Embassy. If ever it became a target for terrorists, they would take out most of America’s
intelligence and counter intelligence at one fell swoop. Mex had the place regularly swept.

As usual, at lunchtimes, it was packed and the only accent was American. Mex sat at a table with
two others deep in conversation. He saw me the moment I came through the door and stood up to
greet me. It seemed as if the whole pub stood back to accommodate his six feet seven frame. He
took me in a Bear hug and my chest suffered bruising as he pulled me towards his shoulder holster,