She was shaking her head furiously, like a child who doesn’t want to hear why she can’t have any more boiled sweets. ‘My father was ambassador to this country for fifteen years, and he knows people who will think nothing of ordering your dismissal from this disgrace of an army.’

‘Mademoiselle—’

‘Non!’ she cried. ‘You are a madman, and a bully, and a butcher!’ And she leaned forward and spat in his face, a full globule that slowly ran down his cheek and onto his neck and disappeared into the lapel of his kimono.

Alebayo didn’t react for several seconds. Scarface was trying to restrain her again, and eventually he shook his head and Scarface let go. Alebayo then stood up and walked across to the wardrobe. He took a handkerchief from one of the drawers and carefully wiped his face, before turning back to Isabelle.

‘I can assure you, Mademoiselle Dumont, that I am no madman. I am in full possession of my faculties. As for being a bully and a butcher, that is for others to judge. But during these difficult days, I often think of my time in the Congo with the United Nations, and something one of my colleagues there shared with me. “When two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.” I believe it is a Swahili saying. At the moment, there are several elephants fighting on the grass of Nigeria. But two of the largest beasts are Great Britain - and France.’ He pointed a finger at Isabelle. ‘Your government is providing arms to the rebels. It is you that is making a mess of the grass. My job is to minimize that mess.’ He nodded at Scarface, who stepped forward and placed the butt of his gun into her back.

‘Put them with the others,’ said Alebayo. ‘I do not wish to see them again.’

The rain had finally stopped, though it wasn’t much comfort. Scarface prodded us through the Toytown streets. Whereas earlier I’d sensed a tiny measure of warmth in his manner, something I might have been able to work on, now there was no mistaking his open hostility. We were no longer Europeans summoned to see his commanding officer; we were foreign spies, and his prisoners to boot.

I inwardly cursed Isabelle and her little performance - it was a wonder Alebayo hadn’t had us shot there and then. The worry was that she wasn’t finished. Just as I could sense Scarface’s hostility behind us, I could sense her seething as she trudged along beside me.