“Computer profiling. I’ve been helping them set up a system here that’s going to be as good as anything the FBI’ve got back home. In here.” He opened the door into a tiny office, no bigger than eight feet square, with one small window at ceiling height. There were two desks pushed together, three small plastic chairs of the stacking variety, and a single filing cabinet. Three cardboard boxes stood side by side on one of the desks. “This is you.”

Margaret looked at him in consternation. “This is me what?”

“Your office. And think yourself lucky. Space is at a premium.”

She was about to voice an opinion on Bob’s definition of the word “lucky,” but was prevented from doing so by the arrival of two middle-aged men and a woman all wearing the uniform of senior police officers. They smiled and bowed and Margaret smiled and bowed back, and then glanced anxiously at Bob for help.

“These are your colleagues in the Criminal Investigation Department here at the university.” He rattled off something in Chinese and they all bowed and smiled again. Margaret bowed and smiled back. “Professors Tian and Bai, and the delightful Dr. Mu,” Bob introduced them. They all shook hands, and then one by one solemnly produced their business cards and presented them to Margaret, the corners held between thumb and forefinger, the English translations of their names facing towards her. She took them each in turn and fumbled in her bag for her own cards and handed one back to each.

“Ni hau,” she said, exercising the only Chinese she knew.

“You’re supposed to present your cards to them the way they did to you,” Bob said.

“Am I?” She was flustered by this, but it was too late to do anything about it now.

“Didn’t you read your briefing material?”

“Sorry, I forgot.”

She smiled at them again and they all smiled back, then one by one lifted a cardboard box from the desk and left.

Margaret looked around in despair. “This is hopeless, Bob. I can’t work in this space for six weeks.”

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Wrong with it? It’s like a cell. I’ll be banging my head off the walls after a week in here.”

“Well, I wouldn’t mention it to Professors Tian, Bai and Dr. Mu.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think you’d find them very sympathetic. They probably don’t like you very much already.”

Margaret couldn’t believe she was hearing this. “Why wouldn’t they like me? They’ve only just met me.”

“Well, for one thing . . .” Bob sat on the edge of one of the desks, “. . . you probably make more in a week than they earn in a year. And for another . . . they’ve just been moved out of their office to make way for you.”

Margaret’s jaw slackened.