Neither looked towards the camera or to Sarah as they passed. Tip-offs aside, they were professionals. And professionals remain detached. It was the price required when Sarah reported on any story that involved her increasingly high-profile fiancé.

The tall, automated glass doors were already open as they approached the building’s entrance.

Michael and Duffy joined the back of the line that had formed inside the building but which, thanks to the court’s high-security safeguards, now snaked out front. It left them on the wrong side of the glass doors and just feet from the warmth of reception. And on a zero-degree January morning, those few feet could feel endless.

Not that Michael was willing to acknowledge the effect of the cold. Not with Sarah so close by. Dressed as smartly as either Michael or Duffy – and therefore just as unsuitably for the weather – she was looking at a much longer wait in the icy London wind.

He would grin and bear it.

‘I thought those letters after your name would at least mean a bit of special treatment, big man.’

Duffy rubbed his cold hands together as he spoke, making no effort to hide his discomfort. The letters he referred to were Michael’s professional honorific of QC, a rank Michael had achieved the previous year, which was supposed to set him apart as a senior barrister, superior to the rank and file.

Michael held little stock in his elevation. It was a promotion he felt he had hardly earned and which others he knew deserved more. That self-doubt had driven him to prove himself worthy of the title, which had in turn seen his professional profile soar to new heights.

‘They make no difference at all,’ he replied, pretending to ignore the cold. ‘We get the same treatment as everyone else. Trust me, if any random member of the public has to take their shoes off here then so do I.’

‘Maybe they know how we both got here, eh?’ Duffy said with a chuckle. ‘And where we both started.’

Michael didn’t reply. It was another reference to his past and he had no doubt it was intentional. He was not offended; Michael was sure that Duffy regarded their mutual unconventional upbringings as both a badge of honour and a personal connection. But still, Michael’s past was filled with memories he didn’t want to discuss. Especially with a man he still hardly knew.

The line moved quickly, with neither man saying another word. Soon they were through the door and had passed security.

‘What courtroom are we in?’ Michael asked.

‘Court One,’ Duffy replied. ‘They’ve given us a district judge. George Bell. You know him?’

‘No. You?’

‘I’ve come across him a few times, aye. Pompous old bugger with a big case of judge-itus.’

‘Then I’ll bet he’s going to love today,’ Michael replied as he walked straight ahead, towards the glass-walled staircase that was positioned next to a dual elevator bank. ‘Case like this, he’s not trusted to do anything but send it to a big boy court.’