Mikhail pulled up some video and hit play. It was evident straight away that the room had been rigged with more than one camera of the highest possible quality – and lit to ensure maximum visibility. There seemed absolutely no doubt that the man entering the room was James Ryan, now Prime Minister of the United Kingdom and First Lord of the Treasury. There was an old woman with him, who pointed at three girls rapidly getting to their feet by the coffee-table in the corner. ‘Two virgin, but third also very young.’

The girls looked thirteen or fourteen – fifteen at most – and were dressed in high leather boots and short miniskirts. Their faces were caked with make-up, which failed to conceal their ages or their anxiety. The old woman departed. Ryan took a packet of white powder from his pocket, poured a thin line of it on to the table, rolled up a US twenty-dollar bill and encouraged the girls to partake. He was the last to bend over and snort cocaine, before the orgy – if you could call it that – began in earnest.

One thing was quickly evident: this was not his first time in such company. He knew exactly what he wanted for his money and directed the girls with all the confidence of a man who had done this countless times before. Initially, he only watched, but eventually he rose from a seat in the corner, unbuckled his belt and dropped his trousers and boxer shorts. He didn’t bother to take off his shirt or socks. ‘You don’t have to watch the whole thing,’ Mikhail said.

‘Given what is at stake, I’m afraid I do.’

‘It doesn’t get any better.’

To begin with, Ryan was content to let the girls pleasure him, but he then insisted on having intercourse with each in turn – in the missionary position, while the others waited. All three of the girls cried as he entered them. ‘Just fast forward to the end.’

‘The end is the worst bit,’ Mikhail said, but he did as he was instructed. When he reached the part where James Ryan was putting his trousers on, he hit play again. One of the girls was still crying. ‘Tell her to shut up,’ Ryan instructed the others. ‘At least you will eat well tonight.’

He put on his jacket and left the room. Mikhail stopped the video. ‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Not pleasant, but you can see there is no doubt it is him.’

‘How can we be sure you haven’t faked it?’

‘Don’t be absurd.’

‘We both know it’s possible.’

‘Not with that kind of quality. Ask your experts.’

Kate nodded. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost,’ Mikhail said.

She glanced up at him. ‘It’s a lot worse than that, isn’t it?’

‘No, it is not. It is really very simple. I am offering you a quick and easy solution. No one can doubt that he is the man in this footage, or that its contents don’t amount to a resigning matter, so all you have to do is get myself, my family and my father into Britain with this computer intact and then you can release the pictures and it will all be over.’