The Arab stood up, hugged Crazy Boy and kissed him on the cheek. ‘You are well, brother?’ he asked.

‘Always,’ said Crazy Boy. He waved at Two Knives, who swung the suitcase on to the kitchen table and unzipped it. Inside were dozens of brick-size bundles of fifty-pound notes. ‘One and a half million, to be transferred to my uncle in Mogadishu,’ said Crazy Boy. ‘He will want paying in US dollars, the same as last time.’

The Arab nodded his head. ‘That is not a problem. The conversion will be done on the day that the money is transferred. The current exchange rate is 1.44, I believe.’

He opened a cabinet above the sink and took out an electronic banknote counter. He unplugged a kettle and plugged in the counter. ‘Can I offer you a drink while I do the count? Mint tea, perhaps?’

‘After all this time you do not trust me?’ Crazy Boy laughed.

The Arab smiled as he took one of the bundles out of the case and slotted it into the top of the counter. ‘My friend, I trust nobody,’ he said. ‘That is why I have lived so long.’ He pushed a button on the front of the counter and the notes began to whirr as a red LED counted them off. ‘Would you care for tea, my friends, because this will take some time?’

‘Tea would be good,’ said Crazy Boy, sitting down at the table.

The Arab continued to count the money, breaking off only to make and serve glasses of hot sweet tea garnished with fresh mint leaves. Crazy Boy sat and sipped his drink and waited. He wasn’t offended at the Arab’s insistence on checking every note. Business was business. He was equally thorough when he was paying money out.

When the Arab had finished he opened a door to a room which had once been used as a larder but which now contained only a safe almost as tall as he was. There was an electronic keypad on the door and the Arab tapped out a six-digit number and pulled open the door with a grunt. He put Crazy Boy’s money on to a shelf in the middle, closed the door and joined him at the table. He picked up his glass of tea and toasted Crazy Boy before drinking. ‘So business is good?’ asked the Arab.

‘The ships still sail, the ransoms are paid, all is well with the world.’

‘I hear that the infidels are doing more to protect their ships.’

Crazy Boy shrugged. ‘They try, but there are too many ships and the sea is too large. But you are right, the pickings are not as easy as they once were. Still, he who does not seize opportunity today will be unable to seize tomorrow’s opportunity.’

The Arab smiled. ‘You Somalis have a proverb or saying for every occasion,’ he said.

‘It is the way we pass down our wisdom from generation to generation,’ said Crazy Boy. ‘One of our proverbs is that Somalis never utter a false proverb.’