Now that the target had been neutralized, a younger man in a sharp suit entered and looked her up and down disdainfully. His clothes and demeanour bore a striking resemblance to Major Toht from Raiders of the Lost Ark and she had a sudden image of being locked in an interrogation room with a white light shining in her face.

‘Elizabeth Cleverley?’ he asked in a casual tone, as if they were great friends and this was just a spontaneous visit.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ she said, tears streaming down her face. ‘I don’t know what’s happening here. I haven’t done anything!’

‘Haven’t you?’

‘No! Nothing at all.’ She raised her voice now. ‘Why are all these guns being pointed at me?’

‘Because you’re under arrest,’ said the man calmly.

She felt herself begin to relax a little; obviously, this was a mistake, and it wouldn’t be long before they were begging her forgiveness and settling out of court for the trauma they’d put her through.

‘Under arrest?’ she asked, laughing. ‘On what charge?’

‘On suspicion of terrorist behaviour.’

Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief. She tried to move towards the armchair but, because her ankles were tied together, all she could manage was a sort of bunny-hop, and even as she tried that, one of the officers lifted his gun aggressively and pointed it at her head, his finger on the trigger.

‘Terrorist behaviour?’ she asked. ‘That’s ridiculous. Don’t you know who I am? I’m George Cleverley’s daughter! I have absolutely zero interest in politics or ISIS or whatever is popular at the moment. I was going to go to Indonesia, yes, which for all I know might be near Iraq, but that was to help lepers. I’m a philanthropist and an influencer! For pity’s sake, I have a blue tick! Now can you please untie me so I can call my father’s solicitor and see to it that you’re out of a job by evening time?’

The man didn’t so much as crack a smile but opened a folder he was carrying and ran his finger down a page.

‘There’s something about @BorisJohnson’s face that makes me want to attack it with a machete,’ he read carefully.

‘Me too,’ said Elizabeth, attempting to shrug. ‘I honestly don’t know what people see in him. And honestly, couldn’t someone just give him a comb?’

‘You wrote this, didn’t you?’

‘Me? No. Of course not. Why would I write such a thing?’

‘@TruthIsASword,’ he said. ‘You’re the administrator of this Twitter account, aren’t you?’

She paused for a moment.

‘Ah,’ she said, swallowing nervously. ‘I think I understand now. Right. Okay. I mean, you’re making a terrible mistake, but I can see how it got started. How did you even know that I’m @TruthIsASword?’