Myriam leans over the table, and with unexpected speed grabs his forearm, squeezing so hard it brings tears to his eyes. Their faces are no more than a foot apart now. ‘It’s time for you to stop fucking around,’ she hisses. ‘Do you plan to meet him in Brussels? When are you going to meet him? Don’t you realize this is a whole new game since yesterday, you fucking idiot?’

Jacob pulls his hand away, and she reluctantly lets go in order to avoid a scene, even though the outdoor seating is almost empty.

His arm is an angry red where she held on, and he rubs it with his other hand. ‘What the hell,’ he says. ‘Are you fucking crazy?’

‘Am I?’ Myriam asks. ‘Am I crazy? Or am I just frustrated that you don’t understand what the hell you’re mixed up in? You’re protecting a fucking terrorist, Jacob. You’re making it harder for us to stop more terrorist attacks.’

He shakes his head again, his arm still hurting, and he continues rubbing it. ‘But I did what you asked me to do,’ he repeats. ‘I did everything.’

She looks at him with the same irritated contempt as before, just more intensely now. ‘I think you know as well as me that his computer didn’t help us.’

He just looks at her coldly. ‘How would I know that?’ He feels like a child repeating the same transparent apology over and over again.

‘When are you going to Brussels?’ she asks again.

‘I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Why would I go to Brussels?’

They sit there, eyes locked, without saying anything else for a while, then she bends over the table again.

‘Listen to me right now,’ she says. ‘And really fucking think about it before you answer me, okay? Has Yassim given you something that he wants you to pass on to someone else, or that he wants you to take to him in Brussels? Take your time now, Jacob. Really think about it. Did you receive anything from Yassim that he wants you to take care of in any way?’

His head pounds. The wound on his back. Last chance.

‘Do you have it here?’ she asks.

Her voice sounds different now, not threatening, on the contrary, it sounds understanding and almost friendly.

‘I know it’s hard,’ she says. ‘He made you believe he’s in love with you, that you have something together. But you have to understand that he doesn’t care about you. He only cares about one thing: his mission. And that mission is terror, Jacob.’