‘Now,’ said Mahsoud. ‘Because you are who you are, and out of respect for you, I will tell you what I know for sure, and what I do not know. But I implore you – it must go no further than this room. Not even your brother.’ He raised his eyes. ‘The drones, the satellites, they are always up there. It is for your safety, and the safety of your family, as well as for the success of the operation. The Americans, the British… they are not playing games.’

‘I understand,’ said the man. ‘It goes no further.’

Mahsoud inclined his head, slowly and gravely.

‘Thank you,’ he said. He cleared his throat, and lowered his voice. ‘The truth – as far as I know it – is that the operation is an attack in Cairo,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what or where – maybe the US embassy, maybe some visit by someone important, it’s not my job to know. It was conceived in Saudi Arabia some time ago, and has been financed by a very rich man from that country, via another man in Balochistan, via a man in Cairo itself. The Chechens who will lead the attack need a safe house. I assume your friend, Mr Shaladi, agreed to provide one.’

The old man nodded.

‘By the way,’ said Mahsoud. ‘Not only do I not know Shaladi, I do not know the man in Saudi, nor the man in Balochistan, nor the man in Cairo.’ He paused. ‘The cell structure, you see? If I am captured, I cannot give anyone, or any target, away.’

‘So who are you working for?’

‘My instructions come direct from a representative of the financier in Saudi. It’s a lot of money. My job is to be the Saudi’s representative on the ground, to ensure the money is spent correctly, and to help the Chechens achieve their goal in any way I can.’

‘Who are the Chechens? Shaladi didn’t know their names.’

‘I don’t know, either,’ said Mahsoud, comfortable that this lie would remain undiscovered. ‘It’s all done through intermediaries. I only know that their leader is a respected emir. Truthfully, I doubt he is even aware of my existence. Of course, I’m sure he is expecting someone to be in the vicinity on behalf of the financier, but I am nothing but a minnow. I am still waiting for my Saudi contact to give me the address of the safe house, so that I can go and make myself known.’ He paused. ‘I’m surprised that the information hasn’t come yet. Maybe…’

The old man held up a hand.

‘I can tell you why that is,’ he said.

‘Oh?’ said Mahsoud.

‘Something has happened,’ said the old man, his ego loosening his lips, ‘and the Chechens are no longer coming to Sirte. Shaladi was asked to find them a new place. Just temporary – they want to keep on the move. Something has worried them.’