Georgi Kotsev was definitely tall and dark. He had good bone structure, and a slight tan, but not too much. A recent holiday in one of those Black Sea resorts, perhaps? He wore a black leather jacket, quite new, though probably a cut-price copy of a designer label. Fry thought he’d have looked pretty good in a well-cut suit, too. His hair was black, trimmed short, but combed back to reveal a hint of waviness.

He also looked vaguely angry as he came down the ramp. But his expression cleared quickly when Fry introduced herself.

‘Welcome to England, Sergeant.’

Kotsev smiled. ‘Blagodariya. Thank you.’

‘If you’ll follow me, I’ve got a car waiting.’

She ought to say something else, but she’d always found small talk difficult. All the way from Edendale to the airport, she’d been worrying about the prospect of making stilted conversation with a stranger. But as Fry led her visitor across the walkway to the short-stay car park, she found there’d been no need to worry. He began to talk without any prompting.

‘I came by Lufthansa,’ he said. ‘The German airline, you know it? Only four hours and fifty-five minutes, including one stop at Frankfurt. Very quick, very efficient. A British Airways flight is two hours longer – and yet more expensive.’

‘You know, your English is very good, Sergeant Kotsev.’

‘Ah, merci. Thank you. And German aircraft have three inches more leg room. Did you know? That is important, too. For me, at least. Are the British less tall than Germans? No, I don’t think so. Oh, and then there is Czech Airways. A joke, of course.’

‘You’re an admirer of German efficiency, then?’

‘We have to give them credit for what they achieve,’ he said.

Her Peugeot was fortunately close to the entrance. She was anxious to get in the car and be under way.

‘Wasn’t Bulgaria invaded by the Germans during the last war?’ she said as she opened the boot for his suitcase.

The question had come out of her mouth before it had even occurred to her she might sound too much like a character out of a Fawlty Towers episode. Well, that was the danger of making small talk. The pressure to say something that would fill the silence led to stupid comments.

Kotsev started to nod his head, then seemed to change his mind and shook it vigorously instead. ‘No, no – we were on their side. It was the Russians who invaded us.’

‘Really?’

He folded the handle of his case and loaded it into the car. ‘Sadly, there is some ignorance here about our history.’

Fry thought of the people Kotsev might meet back at Edendale. ‘I can’t promise you anything else.’