“Chief Superintendent Melville?”
A chap had fallen into step beside me, almost without my noticing—mid-forties and slim, with probing brown eyes and the gait of a military man. A senior officer, judging by his suit. It was of a nondescript navy blue, the sort that would vanish in a crowd, but close up I could see it was exquisitely tailored.
“You have me at a disadvantage, sir,” I said.
“Trotter’s the name. Colonel James Trotter. I wonder if you might spare a few moments to join me at my club. It’s not far, just up Piccadilly.”
“Might I ask why, Colonel Trotter?”
Trotter smiled. “You’ve just had a meeting with Lord Salisbury,” he said, “and I gather it was not entirely satisfactory.”
“And who, pray, told you that?”
Trotter smiled again. He was a popular man with the ladies, I suspected—and some of the gentlemen too. “Let’s just say, I work with certain people who share your concerns about developments on the Continent, and mean to do something about it. We could use a man of your experience, and you come highly recommended.”
I’m a bit long in the tooth for all this flattery, I thought. But I was intrigued all the same.
Trotter nodded in the direction of Piccadilly.
“It shouldn’t take more than an hour.”
afterword
It’s hard to imagine how this novel could have been written were it not for Andrew Cook’s exhaustive and painstakingly researched biography of William Melville, M: MI5’s First Spymaster. Cook’s masterly work led me in turn to Gustav Steinhauer’s autobiography, Steinhauer, the Kaiser’s Master Spy, and his first-hand account of the late-night raid which became the inspiration for M, King’s Bodyguard. From the moment Melville and Steinhauer board the London train to the moment Melville takes the fan down from the wall of Minetti’s lodgings, this book follows Steinhauer’s account in every detail—although it does stretch credulity that Steinhauer could have remembered those details so vividly when writing about them almost thirty years later. Nevertheless it’s Steinhauer to whom I owe the greatest debt.
I must thank Anne Messitte, a dear friend and an amazing editor, for her enthusiasm and encouragement from the very beginning. Thanks are also due to Val Hoskins, my agent, whose patience and support kept me on track over a decade of rewrites. And to my wife, Erika, I offer my deepest love and gratitude for putting up with me and my “artistic temperament” for more years than either of us cares to admit.
I would also like to thank Edward Kastenmeier, my editor at Pantheon, for his advice and guidance, and particularly Sue Betz, my copy editor, whose superb eye for detail saved me from many excruciating errors and anachronisms, some of which had persisted from the earliest drafts.
Any that remain are wholly and exclusively my own.
Niall Leonard
London, August 2020
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