Wada looked along the corridor to the reception area. She might be able to make it to the exit before they intercepted her. But the lift was the only way down from there and another police officer could easily be waiting in the foyer. Looking the other way, she saw a door at the far end with the green fire escape symbol on a sign above it. She glanced back. The policeman hadn’t moved.

‘Stop operating that computer.’

‘Why?’

The response came in Icelandic. The policeman moved suddenly into the room. Shadows of some kind of struggle spilt into the corridor. Wada heard several grunts, followed by the crash of something toppling over. ‘Let go of me,’ came a muffled shout from Kristjan.

He’d done the best he could for her and now was her chance. She stepped into the corridor and began running towards the fire escape, shoving the roll of pages inside the waistband of her trousers as she went.

She reached the door, glanced over her shoulder to check she still hadn’t been spotted, then turned the handle, bracing herself for some kind of alarm to sound.

None did. She stepped through on to a narrow landing above flights of plain concrete stairs. The lighting was low but adequate. She closed the door gently behind her, then started down the stairs, making as little noise as possible.

There were doors on each landing and by Wada’s calculation she’d gone down into the basement by the time she reached the bottom of the stairs. She eased the door open and found herself in a small underground car park, occupied by exactly one car. A ramp took her up into a yard at the rear of the building from which an access alley led round to the street.

Wada moved cautiously, following the alley. As she rounded the corner of the building, she saw a steel gate ahead. It was too high to climb and she began to worry that she was trapped, but, as she approached, she saw there was a narrow pedestrian gate to one side. She could only hope it opened from the inside.

It did, though there was an initial squeak from the hinge that made her stop. Then she went on pulling it open, much more slowly. There were no more squeaks.

She held the gate open and peered out along the street. There was a police car parked outside the entrance to the building. An officer was standing beside it, leaning against the roof of the car as he spoke into a microphone from which a cable snaked back into the vehicle.

She was going to have to close the gate and walk away along the street. The policeman might turn round at any moment and see her, of course. Or his colleagues might emerge with Kristjan and spot her.