‘If you don’t mind, sir.’ Forcing that neutral tone is near on impossible but she does it. Standing resolute as he pushes the wheeled chair back a few inches and leans back with his hands behind his head while opening his legs a few inches as though proudly displaying his swollen member.

She kneels down, working the wand along the desk legs, the underside and the external casing of the computer, freezing when he shifts position and resuming when he goes still again.

She works from bottom to top, trying to ignore the erotic images of dusky-skinned women.

‘They look a bit like you,’ he says pleasantly and waits as though expecting a reply. ‘That one does,’ he adds, leaning forward to press a manicured finger against the screen on the left. ‘Don’t you think?’

She does not reply. To verbalise anything now would be to give away her fear.

‘I said don’t you think?’ he asks again. ‘That one.’ He jabs the screen. ‘Looks like you . . . do you know her?’

Still she does not reply but works the back of the monitors.

‘Figured you all know each other,’ he says with the faintest of slur to his words. ‘I’m not racist though,’ he adds quickly. ‘Love all the ragheads,’ he sputters with a laugh and stands up. She holds perfectly still with the wand an inch from the rear of the last monitor and his form in her peripheral vision.

‘I can have the police find extremist material in your father’s office,’ he says quickly. ‘He’ll be arrested and questioned under terrorism laws. A leak will take place telling the media that your family are linked to Islamic extremism . . . do you understand?’

Her heart hammers in her chest and her mouth goes dry. She swallows with a visual show of her nerves and the knuckles on the hand holding the wand go white.

Later, when the investigation concludes, the report will show that the fast jet entered UK airspace on a planned flight path provided to the authorities. The report will detail how the scanning stations did not detect anything of concern because the jet engines did not show a military signature, thereby causing the aircraft to be perceived as civilian.

‘You carry gloves. Put them on,’ he orders, pulling a pair of tight-fitting latex gloves from his pocket.

The report will detail how a crude missile system was fitted to the executive jet with a basic laser guiding system operated by the pilot on line of sight.

She has no choice. The threat is real and everyone knows that behind the genial, blustering persona there is a core of ice running through the Prime Minister.