‘Tell me about Mohammed,’ said the spook, a little testily.

‘I met him a few years ago. We are just friends.’

‘You met him where?’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘And you are travelling to see him why?’

‘Do you not like to see your friends?’

‘And Hassan?’

‘The same.’

The spook sat back in his chair and looked at Mahsoud.

‘Do you think we’re stupid?’ he said.

‘I wouldn’t go that far,’ said Mahsoud, ‘but I think you’re going to have to let me go.’ He looked up at the little white clock on the grey wall. ‘My flight leaves in under an hour. Check it out. TU791. I would hate to miss it.’

‘We can hold the flight. We also have the power to…’

‘I know your powers as well as you do. Probably better. But why don’t you look at the case of Mahsoud v R? I am sure you can google it. In particular, read the words of Sir David Herbert QC, the Appeal Court judge who handed down the decision. He was quite scathing of my treatment at the hands of the Security Service, and I don’t think he would be happy to know that you are still harassing me.’ He smiled. ‘After all I’ve been through, I mean. It has been terribly stressful, and I am already planning to take legal action against the government, so…’

The male officer looked at the female, who shook her head.

‘Wait here please, sir,’ he said. ‘My colleague and I just need to have a quick chat.’

They both left by a grey door, and Zeff Mahsoud sat back and looked around himself with detached amusement.

If there was a better place to get questioned by intelligence agents than the UK, he didn’t know it; he’d be a lot less cocky once he got to Tunisia and beyond.

Not that he intended to be detained once he’d crossed the sea.

The door opened and the male spook walked back in.

‘Right, sir,’ he said. ‘Thanks for your time. You’re free to go.’

Mahsoud looked at the contents of his suitcase and carry-on luggage, strewn over the floor.

‘What about my luggage?’ he said.

‘Oh, I’d like to help, sir,’ said the spook, with a mirthless chuckle, ‘but you know you’re supposed to pack your cases yourself. Plus, I’ve a terrible bad back.’

‘I meant getting it on the plane. I’ve checked it in once.’

‘We’ll make sure it gets loaded.’

Five minutes later, Zeff Mahsoud walked back out into the main airside shopping area at Heathrow.

All around him were young families heading off on their summer holidays – though bookings had already been hit by the recent incidents in Spain, and mums seemed to his eye to be keeping their children a little closer, dads to be a little more vigilant.