A few hours later, Michael Adebayo was sat in the solicitor’s consulting room at Ilford Police Station. He was still in pain; his leg was throbbing evidence of the encounter with Tomo at his office. He was both angry and extremely worried about the events that had led him there, but the presence of his old friend and solicitor was a welcome development.

Asif Khan sat across the desk, looking at him with those familiar hard eyes. He was immaculately dressed in a tailored grey suit with a blindingly-white shirt and conservative tie. They had been friends at university and immediately gravitated towards each other, especially once their mutual desires to make money became obvious. It had been Khan’s suggestion that Adebayo take the plunge and convert to Islam. They shared the same taste in women: particularly feckless white women of questionable morals who were amenable to their advances after a few drinks.

After university, both men went on to be solicitors: Adebayo specialising in immigration and Khan setting up his own successful criminal defence practice. Part of Khan’s success story was down to his morals. He had none whatsoever; he would represent anyone and use any tricks—fair or foul—to keep them out of jail. He and Adebayo had remained good friends and associates ever since going their separate ways after university, often feeding work each other’s way, their practices complementing each other perfectly.

‘Right, I’ve had the evidence disclosure from the officer in the case,’ said Khan. ‘It doesn’t look good. They have the girl secured away at an examination suite and I think—although they won’t admit it yet—they had an undercover officer, or they’ve recorded you at the office. Basically, my friend, you’re screwed and I don’t think normal tactics will work here. If it was an undercover officer, he would have been wired as well. They also have you bang to rights for organising sham marriages.’

Adebayo didn’t answer, instead slumping against the desk with his head cupped in his hands. Tears seeped out between his fingers and spotted the dark Formica table. He pictured everything he’d worked for falling around his ears.

Khan spoke after a second, ‘We say nothing for the time being. I will demand the information about the undercover officer and the details of the girl. I will also demand to see the footage in full before we comment.’