THE PHONE ON MAJOR Cameron’s desk rang, then diverted to his cell phone. The diplomat picked up the call on the first ring.
‘Major Cameron.’
The voice was cultured, clipped and as American as apple pie: not what he expected.
Agent Phelps was disconcerted and replied, ‘Major Cameron?’
‘Wasn’t that what I said?’ the man replied with a tinge of amusement.
‘Sorry, I was expecting an Australian accent.’
‘As one would ... Who are you and what can I do for you?’
Phelps coughed lightly. ‘I’m FBI Agent Victor Phelps. I have news about your brother Captain Banjo Cameron.’
‘I’m listening,’ he said as he walked the corridor of power back to the sanctuary of his office. He walked past his secretary’s desk, gave a curt nod and without breaking stride opened the door to his room, then shut it sof
