‘But – but if they’re somehow openly collecting money, that’s appalling,’ said Gilbert. ‘What’s stopping the police from arresting them all on sight? Is it red tape?’

‘They probably haven’t even noticed yet. Too busy giving out speeding tickets.’

‘Now hold on a minute,’ said the landlord.

But the chief didn’t hold on. ‘Who knows, we might even be subsidizing them the way we did the Taliban. Paying them for information about some other bunch of nutters.’

‘No!’ exclaimed Gilbert. ‘Do you think that’s true?’

‘Might not be a bad idea to fund them and their training camps,’ said the chief. ‘Get them into the middle of nowhere with lots of explosives, maybe they’ll blow themselves up while they’re practising.’

Gilbert was very disappointed. From where he was standing, terrorism was not a laughing matter.

But the landlord said, ‘You don’t seriously think the Met is funding terrorists? The point is, even if they’re not split up into cells, you’d be surprised how hard something like this can be to actually pin down so that it’ll stick.’

‘Well, the police certainly do seem to find it difficult. But a tired old hack like Jez here can get it done without even missing deadline.’

Gilbert tried to bring them back on to common ground. Putting his hand on the newspaper, he said, ‘I did want to ask, though, is it very bad in London now, with the Muslims? All morning the news has been talking about these mobs chasing each other in Luton and Bradford, but is it very bad where you are?’

‘London’s full of Muzzers,’ said the chief. ‘One in three Londoners is now at least part Muslim and the rest are Russian oligarchs. Didn’t you know that?’

Gilbert clucked his tongue. ‘No, no, I don’t mean… immigration. I just meant the violence. There are Muslims everywhere. We have some here in Bucklebury. Barry employs a Muslim right here in the kitchen.’

Despite themselves, the journalists tensed. The landlord immediately cautioned them, ‘Now, don’t get excited.’ Jeremy became aware of how far they were from the bunker’s protective walls. And the chief said, ‘So is this what’s going on, Bootleg Betsy? You’re harbouring a Muslim back there. That’ll be why you’re such an expert on sleeper cells. You’re not letting him cook with gas, are you? He doesn’t have any spare propane canisters lying around back there just looking for a fire to start?’

Spreading his palms on the bar and leaning his weight forwards on to them, the landlord said, ‘I won’t have the people who work for me accused of things. Ayub’s a good lad. He’s not some sort of fanatic.’