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Tessa Roxburgh looked at the man sitting across her at the kitchen table. Philip Norman. Huge, firmly built. At first sight a soldier. Actually headmaster of a school. Before he went on sick leave that is. Or was sent on leave.
“You name it. What urgent questions do you have?” The Tank said. He looked impatiently at the clock that hung above the small open space above the door.
Tessa also looked at the clock. A simple plastic thing whose battery was probably more expensive than the clock itself. She took in the attributes in the kitchen. Looked past Philip Norman down the hall and then into the living room. “Who are you, Mr. Norman?”
The Tank continued to stare at her. “Philip Norman. Director of Grenfill High.”
“Yes,” Tessa sighed. “And I am actually director of the CIA.”
“Why do
