‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, we were lovers.’ She smiled and took another drag of her cigarette. ‘For a little while anyway. But the thought of it all growing hateful and burning out, it was too much for me. Arthur felt the same. He has so many other concerns. We soon realized we were much better suited as companions.’

I looked down at the floor, more confused than ever. Beside the bed were the papers, spilled from their file. Had she drunk enough to talk about them?

She followed my gaze, and sighed. ‘Insurance, against my husband,’ she said, stirring the papers with a bare toe. ‘They’re blueprints. Original copies. I stole them when I left, and told Francesco that unless he leaves me alone, they will find their way into the hands of every foreign military attaché I can think of.’ She smiled. ‘It is the only language he understands.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I told her.

‘So am I. But we’re here now, aren’t we?’

Sitting on that rumpled bed, we looked at each other.

‘I won’t tell Arthur,’ she said abruptly, stubbing her cigarette in an overflowing ashtray on the bedside table. ‘But you will have to.’

My stomach tightened with nerves. ‘What will he do?’

‘Honestly?’ Her eyes travelled over my suit, my tie, my reddened face. ‘I have no idea.’ After another moment she smiled, like the sun through cloud. She was looking at the napkins on the floor. ‘Do you really need those?’

When I grimaced and nodded, she let out a laugh.

‘Go and use my bathroom, then. You don’t want Bouzid walking in and surprising you.’

I found myself smiling at that, as I collected them up. ‘He’s suspicious enough already.’

‘Oh, he knows something’s up with you, just as I did.’ She laughed again. ‘Poor Bouzid, when he finds out.’

I made for the bathroom door, my head swimming from the gin and the smoke and the knowledge that someone at Dar Portuna could see beneath my mask.

‘Alejandro.’ Hilde’s voice stopped me. ‘Tell Arthur soon. He is not a man to keep things from.’

Tangier

July 1978

Birdsong, that was what he heard, sweet and scattered and echoing back from high walls.

Sam opened his eyes. Sunlight was spilling past the heavy velvet curtains, revealing a blaze of greenery beyond. He blinked hard, and a low bronze table came into focus, covered in empty glasses and plates and oil-slicked dishes. Dar Portuna, he realized. He was still at Dar Portuna, waking on one of the old, sagging sofas.