The Sursock Museum’s newly renovated; its white facade shines like mother of pearl, like a mirage in the midst of all that grey decay. He stops and takes a deep breath of clear autumn air. He should probably just leave. He’s already chosen Yassim. Love and truth.

But he takes a deep breath and walks through the gate, turns to the left, heading towards the newly built cafe and the small boutique. Myriam is already sitting there with a small cup of coffee in front of her, nothing else. Beside Byblos, Jacob’s never seen her in daylight, and he’s struck by how attractive she is. Just a cool, local girl spending her afternoon off at the museum. That’s what he’d think if he’d never spoken to her, didn’t know how ruthless she is.

He walks slowly towards her across the polished sandstone slabs, squinting against the pale autumn sun.

She doesn’t even look up from her phone when he sits down across from her. ‘What is your friend going to do?’ she asks.

Jacob feels that familiar powerlessness creep over him. He has to get back his strength, his power. ‘What do you mean?’

Myriam puts the phone on the table in front of him and stares at him with empty eyes. ‘You still don’t understand how serious this is,’ she says slowly with suppressed rage. ‘You think it’s a fucking game, don’t you? A novel? Are you aware of what just happened in Europe? In Paris yesterday?’

Jacob’s leg starts to tremble and hop, the wound on his back starts to pound.

‘Your boyfriend disappeared again,’ she continues. ‘This time he’s on his way to Europe. Answer the question: what is he going to do there?’

‘I did what you asked me to,’ Jacob whispers. ‘I installed the programme on his computer.’

‘What do you want? A medal?’

‘What do you want me to do then?’ he says. ‘I’ve done what you asked me and all you do is question me.’

‘Do you think I’m an idiot?’ She’s raised her voice now and is leaning over the table. ‘You disappeared from his apartment sometime in the early morning hours. Again: Do you think I’m a fucking idiot? Well?’

Jacob shrugs; he wasn’t prepared for this after all. ‘I don’t know where he is. You seem to know more than me.’

Myriam sits comfortably in her chair staring at him. Rage burning in her eyes. ‘Come on,’ she says.

Jacob shakes his head and leans over the table, looking her in the eyes. ‘Come on with what? What the hell do you want me to say? That I know where he is when I don’t?’