We need you in situ on the 11th to familiarise yourself with his route.

He's booked on the Paris express on the 12th February, returning on the 15th. “Fabrique Besson, eh?” On the face of it, a French company providing parts for agricultural machines, but so much more than that behind the scenes. I'm sending the file down with a runner.” In our dreams we’d like to know what he’s passing but appreciate that may not be possible. If possible, we’d like to know to whom he’s passing information. “We just heard that Carmouche of Fabrique Besson is making another of his little trips, and your name is next on the list to shadow him. “Politeness doesn't cost anything, you know.” The bureau chief sounded harrassed. “Hah!” Briers grabbed the handset from him. “Hello, International Trade and Exchange,” Basset said. The phone rang and they both lunged for it, Basset beating Briers by a short head. “But then we'd be warm and have something exciting to do, so go ahead.” He launched his missile and missed the waste paper basket by inches. He was rocking in his chair, balanced on the two back legs of it, and had given up all pretence of looking busy in favour of making paper aeroplanes.

“You'll set the chimney on fire.” Basset muttered. He shuffled over to the fireplace and made more fuss than necessary over adding a few lumps of coal to the already blazing hearth. “God, what I wouldn't give for a nice juicy assassination attempt,” he muttered as he slammed the filing cabinet. He had even sunk so low as to tackle the filing. Briers Allerdale could only assume that his various opponents were doing what he was doing – following orders to sit in an office pretending to work and be bored out of their minds. It was bitterly cold and snow was piled in the streets of Belgrade, just the time to steal the march on one's opponents, one would have thought, but the reports that came in from outlying agents were sadly lacking in action. Early February and things were pretty much dead on the espionage front.

Eleventh Hour by Elin Gregory