Guy Brammel has decided to open the bowling, as he would say, which makes 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
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