Nobody ever called on them at the Tower. Certainly not the locals, who wouldn’t even acknowledge a good evening from her as she set off on her nocturnal walks. Vincent Bouche appeared at the end of the corridor, a cook’s apron with the colourful cartoon figure of a waiter printed on it springing against his knees as he stalked towards the door. He still had the razor sharp vegetable knife in his hand he had been using to slice apples. ‘Anyone we know, madame?’ ‘It appears to be Spads. He’s the electronic warfare specialist currently attached to section seven.’ There was a distant excited snaffling from the kitchen as Saucisses scratched at the shut kitchen door. The miniature pig was the only one in the household that enjoyed receiving visitors. As long as they scratched him under the snout, he was content. Agatha was not so easily fobbed off. Nor was her housemate. Bouche pressed his face to the spy-hole. ‘One of the office’s babies.
