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‘Where were you before coming here?’
    â€˜In the Stan,’ he replied, using the abbreviation some troops favoured when speaking of Afghanistan.
    â€˜With the Cumberland Rifles who returned six days ago?’
    â€˜With whoever needed our help. You’ve no idea. Kandahar base stretches for eight miles in most directions. It’s a bloody circus.’
    â€˜I know. I was out there a couple of years back when some of our guys were slaughtered,’ Tom said tensely.
    Figgis nodded. ‘You have to take it on the chin as part of the job . . . but this .’ He waved a hand at the almost empty tank. ‘The work of some psycho, must be.’
    Tom chose not to follow that direction. Instead, he asked for the names of people who were in any way involved in yesterday’s performances, and those of any other service personnel who used the aqua club of which Figgis was a member. ‘You and Sar’nt Cruz should bring that info to my office by noon tomorrow,’ Tom instructed, eyeing the shark that was being lifted from the water. It looked all too real. ‘Have you ever wrestled with a real one?’
    Figgis laughed. ‘Christ, no! They scare the shit out of me.’
    Back in Headquarters and starting to access the report on Keane’s action in Iraq, Tom was obliged to answer his mobile.
    â€˜Sar’nt Major Black,’ he muttered, his attention on the computer.
    â€˜Clare Goodey here, Mr Black. Corporal Keane’s body is to be collected from the Medical Centre at fifteen hundred. If you want to view it again you should come along before then.’
    â€˜Thanks, but I have all the info I need until the pathologist’s report comes in. How long before we get it, d’you think?’
    â€˜Who knows? I’ll do my best to get him to speed it up.’
    â€˜That’d be helpful, ma’am.’ He made to disconnect then realized she was still speaking.
    â€˜. . . glad of his input.’
    â€˜Sorry, say again,’ he murmured, his attention still on the facts rolling up the computer screen.
    â€˜I heard sounds in Max’s apartment, so I went to investigate knowing he was supposed to be in the UK. He’s back.’

THREE
    I t was hardly a good start to what they had planned, but Max could not help relishing what had happened. A little competition often spiced up an uncertain relationship.
    He and Clare Goodey rented self-contained, one-bedroomed apartments which had a spacious dining-cum-sitting-room between that they both were free to use if entertaining on a large scale. During the few weeks they had been in residence neither of them had had occasion to use the adjoining room which, in fact, also provided access to both apartments without going from one front door, down two flights of steps, along the pavement and up two flights to reach the other front entrance.
    Max had given Clare the key to his door leading to the shared room so that she could gain access in an emergency. It had not occurred to him to email her about his change of plans, so Clare had walked in ready to do battle with whoever was taking advantage of his absence. She had come face to face with Livya in primrose bra and pants, and himself wearing just a small towel after showering. The initial silence could have been cut with a knife.
    Max had performed introductions and both women had handled the situation with self-assurance as each studied the other in critical manner. Clare had swiftly withdrawn leaving another heavy silence soon broken by the sound of running water as Livya took her shower.
    After the bride and groom had departed yesterday for a secret destination, Max and Livya had talked long into the night about the demands of their professions against the demands of their emotions. The problem still seemed insurmountable, which upset them both. Eventually, Max had suggested that as they both had fourteen days’ leave they should take a carefree