Control was old blood, at least sixty. He’d started at the admiralty between the world wars and somehow managed to keep a full head of hair, unlike Terry. He seemed a bit of a shrunken man but it was a purposeful thing. His whole attitude was a game.
No one knew the real Control, many thought they did. The name he used outside of his official capacity was Eric Thawn. He responded to it, easily, no sign of hesitation. His accent was a blend of Estuary and Cockney, not unlike most middle class Londoners who hadn’t put much thought into how they talked. Of course one assumed Control did put thought into every action he took which made the accent odd when it needn’t be.