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‘Don’t tell me,’ Arthur would always reply, shaking his head.

Arthur had a son he was very proud of. Young Arthur was currently on manoeuvres in Germany. Max never forgot to ask after him.

Max had a very distinct view on office life. It wasn’t about the number of hours that you spent rubbing your brow and sending emails. It was about solving whatever was put in front of you as efficiently as possible – and then having a bit of fun.

The open-plan office afforded Max the perfect opportunity to work on Pallesson’s attitude towards him. It suited Max perfectly that Pallesson should think of him as ineffective and a bit of a joke. And there was no better way to act the fool than playing office cricket.

Max had enlisted the aid of an unlikely recruit to perpetuate this sham. His immediate boss, Graham Smith, had played cricket for Chelmsford in his youth. Smith liked to be different. He liked to feel he was ‘on it’ and outside the box; young for his age, trendy and a bit of a rebel against the normal order. So he could be persuaded to bowl at Max as long as he was confident that the ambassador was nowhere near the building. He got used to Max’s challenges arriving via email.

From: Max Ward

To: Graham Smith

Subject: Centenary Test, Lords 1980

DK Lillee bowling to DI Gower. Desperate run chase for England, but Gower still up for having a go at Lillee, who is throwing everything at it.

Play resumes at 5 p.m. sharp.

Smith knew Max would be standing at the end of the passage, bat in hand, at precisely five o’clock. He had to knock over the waste-paper basket behind Max with his tennis ball, or get tonked around the office.

His first ball that afternoon was short and Max pulled it to square leg. The tennis ball flew through Pallesson’s open door and crashed into some photographs on his windowsill. It startled the hell out of him.

‘Did that carry?’ Max asked Pallesson as he retrieved the ball.

Pallesson could barely mask his contempt.

‘For God’s sake, can’t you grow up?’ Pallesson spat. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You think everything’s a bloody game. You’re not the school hero any more, Ward. Maybe you should think about that. Maybe you should think about why you’re going bloody nowhere.’

‘So I can put that down as a six then?’ Max replied nonchalantly as he wandered back to his crease. He resisted the temptation to throw a ‘It’s not going to kill anyone, you know’ line, at the murdering little creep. If he was going to play Pallesson, he had to be smarter and more disciplined than his quarry. And he had to play to win.

The thought of Pallesson relentlessly climbing the diplomatic ladder terrified Max. The higher he got, the more disastrous the consequences would be. Max knew that Pallesson’s loyalties lay with himself. He would betray his country in a heartbeat. He had to be stopped.

Gower’s innings came to an abrupt end when the ambassador made an unscheduled entrance. Smith managed to lose the tennis ball and look industrious, but Max was still tapping down the carpet with his bat when they came face to face.

‘Oh, you’re in today, are you?’ the ambassador asked. He had an air of superiority about him and enjoyed being a hard arse. Most of the staff were intimidated by him, but Max thought he was a pompous, pen-pushing prick.

‘Ah, Ambassador. Good to see you.’ Max smiled.

The ambassador didn’t smile back. He was on the verge of asking Max why he was holding a cricket bat, but he knew he’d be on the receiving end of something flippant.

‘How’s Mrs Ambassador? All well? You must both come to dinner one night,’ Max suggested. He didn’t get a reply.

When Max got back to his desk, a harassed-looking Data Dave was waiting for him holding a USB key. Everyone called him Data Dave; indeed Human Resources were probably the only ones who knew his surname.

‘We need this translated yesterday. It’s the last twenty minutes of an arms deal. Sadly, that’s all the tech boys could recover. There’s Belgian, Dutch and Afrikaans in there. Should be a doddle for you, Ward.’

Max shook his head with mock resignation.

‘And if you can work out where the arms are coming from, then that would be great too. There’s nothing flashing on any of their standard routes.’

Max took the key and waved goodbye to the next two hours of his life.

Max was about to head off for the evening when a text message arrived on his phone. He wasn’t going to look at it right away, but something told him it might be in his interest.

U fancy a drink tonight? it said anonymously. That’s a bit strange, Max thought. But he was intrigued.

Well, give me a clue, he replied.

Arthur gave me your number. I’m sucking my pen, was the instant reply.

Max smiled as he looked up from his phone and glanced around the office. In the far corner, a very pretty, if slightly overweight, brunette was sucking her pen.

Well? she texted as Max hesitated.

Where did you have in mind? Max replied, even though he wasn’t sure this was a particularly good idea.

Anywhere with a cold bottle of champagne.

Max and Louise ended up drinking two bottles of champagne in the bar of the Hotel de l’Europe. There had been a frisson of expectancy about their conversation.

Finally, Louise said, ‘Shall we go now?’

‘Where did you have in mind?’ Max replied noncommittally.

‘Your bed, of course,’ Louise said, dropping her hand on to Max’s thigh.

Max drained his champagne glass to buy time.

‘Louise, that would be very nice, but I’m very unreliable. Here today, gone tomorrow. Very unreliable.’

Louise gave him a broad smile. ‘Don’t panic, Max. I don’t want to go out with you. I have a perfectly nice boyfriend in England, as a matter of fact. So don’t take this personally. Ever heard of a one-night stand?’

Max suddenly admired Louise. Direct, uncomplicated and thoroughly honest. And no games. He’d been up front with her, and she with him. Perfect.

‘Louise,’ Max said seriously, looking into her eyes, ‘why aren’t there more women like you?’

By happy coincidence, Louise had the next day off. Max made her a cup of tea, but she showed no interest in leaping out of bed.

‘I have to get to the airport. London today. What’s your plan?’

‘My plan is to lie in your bed until I can think of something else I’d rather be doing. Why don’t you get back in for ten minutes?’ she suggested, pulling at his arm.

‘Can’t think of anything nicer, but I’ll get shot if I’m late. So to speak.’

‘Max,’ Louise said, ‘can we do that again?’

Max kissed her on the bridge of her nose.