Which is where he needs it, given Gabi’s raging libido. Keeps his ear to the street and the blood racing through his veins. Before he knows it, he’ll be one of those paunchy old shags propping up the Thames House bar, nursing his Laphroaig and complaining about how much better things were before the fembots in HR took over.Ĭycling helps keep Dennis in touch. Tempting of course, status-wise, but a slippery slope. Cycling keeps him lean and mean, and, incidentally, looking pretty damn sportif in his form-fitting Lycra shorts and tactical-fabric jersey, given that he’s going to be forty-eight next birthday.Īs the director of D4 Branch at MI5, responsible for counter-espionage against Russia and China, Dennis has reached a level of seniority where he can, if he wishes, get chauffeured home in one of the Service’s fleet of anonymous, mid-range vehicles. The hard cross-town ride satisfies the Spartan in him. It’s something that he would hesitate to confide to his colleagues or his family, but Dennis sees himself as the upholder of certain values. It’s a longish ride from the office to his north London home, but he’s made good time.
Cruising through Muswell Hill on his carbon-framed bike, his hands resting lightly on the alloy handlebars, Dennis Cradle feels a pleasing exhaustion.
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