Every table was taken, the café filled to capacity by a mix of construction workers, traffic wardens, van drivers, doctors, lawyers and who knows what else.

The man Duffy was looking for was at a small table in the furthest corner, separated from the next seat by a seemingly randomly placed coat stack. It provided the closest thing in here to privacy, Duffy realised.

He moved carefully through the room, a zig-zagging path that passed almost every over-crowded table. Some customers looked up. Some stared resolutely into their crossword puzzles.

On any normal day Duffy would be studying every person here. Trying to spot the undercover officers who so often ‘sat in’ on his meetings with clients, noting information they were not supposed to hear.

But today was no normal day. Today – uniquely – Duffy would be sitting with the cop.

Bruce Bull did not get to his feet as the solicitor approached. Instead he lifted a rucksack from the chair that sat across from him and indicated for Duffy to sit.

‘Good to see you, Will,’ Bull offered as Duffy took the seat. ‘It’s been a long time.’

‘You too, eh.’ Duffy reached out a hand as he spoke. Bull shook it. ‘I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect your call.’

‘You and me both,’ Bull replied.

Before either could say more a small, middle-aged man with a Mediterranean appearance and an accent to match approached. He carried a large white steaming mug in each hand.

‘One coffee, one tea.’

‘Tea’s mine,’ Bull replied. He looked towards Duffy. ‘I took a risk on yours. Black coffee it was, wasn’t it?’

‘Good one.’ Duffy was genuinely impressed. ‘How’d you remember?’

‘Just stuck in my mind.’

‘From fifteen years ago, eh?’

‘You’re a memorable man, Will. Not many like you in your game.’

Duffy smiled. Everyone likes to be flattered. He was no different. Not that he allowed it to distract him. They were here for a reason.

‘Tell me about Mansour. What the hell is the lead investigator doing recommending a non-tame solicitor? And why me?’

Bull looked around before replying. Duffy could recognise the body language; Bull was ensuring he could not be overheard. It was rare that anyone spoke to Duffy professionally without doing the exact same thing, but none of them were police officers.

When he finally spoke, Bull’s voice was quiet. Duffy had to strain to hear it over the noise of the café’s other customers.

‘There’s something up with the case, Will. I don’t know everything and it may well be that Mansour planted that bomb, like he said. But there’s a whole lot more to it. Plus there’s some sort of shit going on with the American Secret Service. Particularly some nasty giant piece of shit called Romeo Meyer. The whole thing’s a mess and Mansour needs someone who’ll look out for him properly. Someone who’ll put his interests first.’

‘And when you thought that, you thought “Will Duffy”, eh?’

‘First and only name that came to me.’