a certain sense because he is by training a barrister and at his stately home in St Albans he runs his own cricket team. Over the years he has frequently roped me in to play.
‘So, Nat,’ he begins, in his cheery port-and-pheasant voice, ‘pretty bloody bad luck is what you’re telling us, I think. You play an honest game of badminton with a fellow and he turns out to be a member of our sister Service and a bloody Russian spy. Why don’t we take it from the top and go from there? How did the two of you meet, what did you get up to when, omitting no details however slight.’
We take it from the top. Or I do. Saturday evening at the Athleticus. I’m enjoying a post-match beer with my Indian opponent from across the river in Chelsea. Enter Alice with Ed. Ed challenges me to a game. Our first fixture. His unfriendly references to his employers, closely observed by Marion and her spear-carrier. Our first post-badminton pint at the Stammtisch. Ed heaps scorn on Brexit and Donald Trump as components of a single evil.
‘And you went along with that stuff, Nat?’ Brammel enquires amiably enough.
‘In moderation, yes, I did. He was anti-Brexit. So was I. Still am. Like most of the people in this room, I suspect,’ I retort stoutly.
‘And Trump?’ Brammel enquires. ‘You went along with him on Trump too?’
‘Well, Christ, Guy. Trump’s not exactly flavour of the month in this place, is he? Man’s a bloody wrecking ball.’
I look round for support. None is forthcoming, but I refuse to be ruffled. Never mind my misstep with Moira just now. I’m an old hand. I’ve been trained in this stuff. Taught it to my agents.
‘When Trump and Putin bond, it’s a devils’ pact as far as Shannon’s concerned,’ I go on boldly. ‘Everyone’s ganging up on Europe and he doesn’t like it. He’s got this German bee in his bonnet.’
‘So he challenges you to a game,’ Guy Brammel persists, waving aside my blathering. ‘In plain sight of everyone. He’s gone to a lot of trouble to seek you out, and here he is.’
‘I happen to be Club singles champion. He’d heard about me and fancied his chances,’ I said, standing on my dignity.
‘Sought you out, ridden across London on his pushbike, studied your game?’
‘He may well have done.’
‘And he challenged you. He didn’t challenge anyone else. Not your Chelsea opponent that you’d just played, which he might have done. It had to be you.’
‘If my Chelsea opponent as you call him had beaten me, for all I know Shannon would have challenged him instead,’ I declare, not entirely truthfully, but there was something in Guy’s tone that I was beginning to dislike.
Marion hands him a piece of paper. He puts on his reading spectacles and studies it at his leisure.
‘According to your receptionist at the Athleticus, from the day Shannon challenged you, he was the only chap you played. You became a couple. Fair description?’
‘A pair, if you don’t mind.’
‘All right. Pair.’
‘We were well matched. He played fair and won or lost with grace. Decent players with manners are hard to find.’
‘I’m sure. You also palled up with him. You were drinking partners.’
‘Overstated, Guy. We got a regular game going and had a beer afterwards.’
‘Every week, sometimes even twice a week, which is going it, even for an exercise freak like you. And you chatted, you say.’
‘I do.’
‘How long did you chat for? Over your lagers?’
‘Half an hour. An hour maybe. Depends how we felt.’
‘Sixteen, eighteen hours, totted up? Twenty? Or is twenty too many?’
‘It could have been twenty. What’s the difference?’
‘Self-educated sort of chap, is he?’
‘Not at all. Grammar school.’
‘Did you tell him what you do for a living?’
‘Don’t be bloody silly.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘Fobbed him off. Businessman home from abroad, looking around for an opening.’
‘And he bought that, you reckon?’
‘Not curious, and equally vague about his own job in return. Media stuff, didn’t elaborate. Neither of us did.’
‘Do you normally spend twenty hours talking politics with badminton partners half your age?’
‘If they play a good game and they’ve got something to say for themselves, why not?’
‘I said, do you? Not why. I’m trying to establish – simple question – whether in the past you have talked politics at length with any other opponent of similar age?’
‘I’ve played them. And had a drink with them afterwards.’
‘But not with the regularity with which you played, drank and talked with Edward Shannon?’
‘Probably not.’
‘And you’ve no son