I shook a smoke out of the pack and lit it. The woman did the same, reclining in her chair as she did so, vanishing back into the darkness. Then the sulphur flared and her face quickened in the void behind the lamplight, juddering for a moment.

The sky was black now. Beyond the windows Tel Aviv had flickered to life one street lamp at a time. The tip of her cigarette flitted across the city skyline like an orange firefly. I blew a thin cloud of smoke into the emptiness of Rachel’s office. With the exception of a television screen on one wall and an oil painting of a chestnut hunter standing alone in a field, the room was almost completely bare. The Marlboro tasted good – familiar, reassuring. I smiled at the woman’s shadow.

‘You haven’t killed me. And you haven’t kidnapped me. And I don’t think you’re going to. But your woman there doesn’t look like she’s keen on me leaving, either.’ I looked over my shoulder again. The guard had stepped to one side so that her superior was out of her line of fire. The Glock pointed towards me. ‘So, what do you want with me? Am I under arrest, or what?’

‘No, no. Not at all.’ She leaned in again so I could see her face, spreading her arms as she did so as if to encompass our situation. ‘In fact, this is quite, uh, the opposite of that. You are a free man.’ She nodded towards the operator standing guard. ‘Khaki ba’hutz.’

I heard the door open and close behind me as she left the room. I guessed they wanted to show they trusted me. Or at least make me feel trusted. But I also guessed they’d unloaded the Grach. I would have.

‘Better?’

‘Yeah. Thanks.’ I double-checked to make sure no one else had entered the room. ‘I mean, this is all very interesting, but …’

‘You came for Rachel?’ she cut across me.

‘Uh-huh.’ I took another drag on the Marlboro.

‘You aren’t the only one. She is very popular, the professor. Surprisingly so.’

‘I see,’ I said. And this time I thought I did. ‘Russian, by any chance?’ She nodded. ‘Small guy, light on his feet,’ I added, ‘leather shoes, tan portmanteau?’ She nodded again. ‘Fancies himself a doctor?’

‘He is a doctor,’ she replied. ‘At least, he trained as one. Doctor Leonid Avilov. These days he is more interested in taking life than he is in saving it.’

‘Well, he was doing his damnedest to keep me alive, that’s for sure. What is he? Bratva? FSB?’ I thought about the options. You never knew with the Russians. ‘Both?’