Peterson’s laughter finally ran out. ‘Oh Richard, this isn’t about anything as trivial as ideology,’ he said. His voice was quiet, mournful, like he was explaining to a child that their dog had run away and wasn’t coming back. Then he suddenly sat up, and slashed at Knox’s leg with a razor-sharp onyx shard. ‘This is business.’

The pain knocked Knox off balance and he fell onto a sofa. As he did, Peterson sprang to his feet and plunged the shard into his thigh.

‘The future isn’t anything as small as politics or patriotism,’ Peterson said. ‘It’s about private enterprise. Finding something to sell and selling it to the highest bidder.’

‘And damn everyone else to a life of fear and oppression,’ Knox said through gritted teeth.

‘Maybe. Maybe they’ll fall into line like scared sheep. Or maybe they’ll finally realise all the promises of rewards for good behaviour are just lies to keep them in their place.’

It all finally, crashingly, hit Knox. He hadn’t been hunting the long machinations of a regime but the petty opportunism of someone caught up in them.

‘You’re a real hero of the revolution,’ Knox said, mustering some sarcasm.

‘I don’t really care what happens,’ Peterson said, leaning over Knox and driving the onyx shard deeper into his leg. ‘The only thing I need everyone to do, including you, is stay out of my way.’

‘Sorry about that,’ Knox said, between groans.

‘I tried to warn you, but you wouldn’t take the hint. I thought you might when I burned down your flat, but you really are quite stupid.’

‘Was Holland in your way too?’

‘Well, I don’t have anything against him personally, but I couldn’t have him sniffing round, asking questions. And he wasn’t the only one who knew about your dirty little parental secret.’

Peterson stepped out of the remnants of the table and towards the sofa on top of the Beretta, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on Knox.

‘My Russian friends were happy to help me arrange his unfortunate medical problem.’ Peterson kneeled down and reached under the sofa, this time wrapping his fist around the barrel of the Beretta. ‘They’ll be less than thrilled when they realise it’s only got them a halfwit as a new DG, but they tend to take a long view at the Lubyanka, so it won’t be a total disappointment.’

Knox couldn’t move. The pain in his leg was too intense. But he needed to stall Peterson, keep him talking. ‘Aren’t you worried about them coming after you?’ Knox asked.

‘They can try. But by tomorrow I’ll be untouchable.’ Peterson stood up, levelling the gun at Knox. ‘Now, I’m afraid I’ve got a schedule to keep.’