Smiley's SIS was not so easily equipped as Mycroft's; he couldn't think of the last time he'd seen a proper Black Maria, not since the war. But just as easily recognizable was a soldier's stature, and John carried that in spades when he walked through the cafe door. They hadn't exchanged names, and Smiley didn't want to bring attention to himself, so he wondered briefly how to let the man know where to sit.

Within a few seconds, John gets a text. Alone. Glasses. Though Smiley still wasn't used to this little chunk of plastic they called a phone, the texting option had proved very useful.