Up ahead, more spectators had been crammed into the space in front of the media centre. Many of them waved flags or clutched balloons, shouting ecstatically. After a hundred metres the limo veered off to the left, abruptly pulling up at the drop-off point on the west side of the Abbey. Twenty metres to the south, a tongue of red carpet ran from the kerb to the grand West Door.

Kember steered towards the drop-off point. Bowman mentally rehearsed the next few minutes. The president, his PA, Jallow, Deka and Bowman would debus and head towards the western entrance. Okello and the limo driver would ferry their vehicles to the holding area located a couple of hundred metres further along. Kember would join them, ditch the Land Rover and hurry back to the Abbey. With the principal safely inside, Bowman and Kember would then take up their positions in the Abbey. The other bodyguards had orders to wait in their cars until Seguma was ready to leave.

A row of police officers faced out towards the crowd in front of the media centre. At his three o’clock, fifteen metres away, Bowman noticed four more police officers. Three of them were dressed in hi-vis jackets. They were standing together near a line of trees at the roadside. A fourth officer loitered a few paces further back from his colleagues, beside a shuttered kiosk, arms folded across his chest.

They pulled up behind the limo. The sedan stopped a few metres further back. Kember turned to Bowman and said, ‘I’ll dump the wagon. See you in five minutes.’

‘Roger that, Geordie.’

Bowman stepped out into the damp chill of early spring. He slammed the door shut, and then Kember took off in the Discovery, following the signs to the VIP holding area. Bowman hastened over to the limo and stopped beside the rear passenger door, giving Seguma room as the latter climbed out. Lungu got out after her boss, clumsily navigating the opening one-handed while she held her pillbox hat in place.

Six metres to the north, Jallow and Deka debussed from the sedan. They trotted over to the president as the sedan pulled away again. Seguma shot the two bodyguards a mean look as they approached. The look suggested they might spend the rest of their lives breaking rocks in a labour camp. If they were lucky.

‘We will talk about this later,’ Seguma hissed.

Jallow shrugged. As if he wasn’t scared of the tyrant. Or possibly he just didn’t care.

The limo edged from the kerb.

Seguma set off at a brisk pace towards the western entrance, the cleated foot of his walking cane rapping against the pavement. Lungu fell into step two paces behind him, with Bowman third in line. The two other bodyguards, Jallow and Deka, casually brought up the rear as the tail-end Charlies.