‘And down there, they’re all still looking around, watching their backs, wondering if they’re standing next to a jihadi. There are people right here in our midst who want holy war, want terror, want a caliphate, want revenge for Iraq and Afghanistan, want to take us back to the Dark Ages. So we’re gonna find someplace else for them to live.’

There was an alarming messianic zeal in Stutz’s expression.

‘How will you do that?’

He grinned. ‘Simple. We have money, we’ll do deals with those countries, pay them to take them back. One payment. Job done. Imagine freedom from fear, at a fraction of the cost of Desert Storm, Iraqi Freedom, even Enduring Freedom.’

Tom kept his composure. The sincerity behind Stutz’s vision would have been laughable if the implications weren’t so shocking – and naïve.

‘So, no more “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses . . .”, then?’

Stutz nodded. Evidently the prospect of sweeping away the fundamental principle on which his nation was founded was not keeping him awake at night.

‘What about the moderates? The guy running a café or driving a cab? Or his cousin, who wants to come here and open a shop? Won’t they get caught in the net?’

Stutz tilted his head and pressed his lips together in a way that implied both regret and finality: a man of integrity just telling it like it was. ‘We got a full house. America is closed.’

And yet you had Jefferson killed because he was threatening an imam. This still didn’t add up, not by a long way.

‘Now, you tell me, son. Do you think Invicta’s up to the job?’

It was clear there was only one answer he wanted to hear. Tom had come this far, he might as well keep playing the game.

‘Absolutely. You bet.’

‘God bless you. Britain and America should stand together. We’re done with being the world’s policemen, sending our best people to be blown apart. It’s way too costly in money and lives – and it doesn’t work. Let them put their own houses in order. We need to protect our borders, conserve our resources. This is what this century needs. The world’s changing. We got our own gas and oil now. We can cut ’em all loose – the Saudis, the Iraqis, Syrians, Afghans. All of ’em.’

Tom looked at him steadily, letting none of his revulsion show. ‘Your backing will make all the difference.’

Stutz put an arm round his shoulders. ‘You know, Tom, I had a good feeling the minute I set eyes on you. I don’t warm easy to people, but we put you in the line of fire and you came through. And you’ve been straight with me. I’m proud of you, and it makes me sick what you went through at Bastion.’