He looks around at the restaurant, suddenly aware of their surroundings. It’s as if the world is more intensely coloured, clearer, than just a second ago. Two men sit at the table closest to the museum building itself. There’s something about their short hairstyles and wide shoulders and how they don’t speak to each other at all. Jacob’s heart pounds, and he glances over towards the souvenir shop. A man stands flipping through some art books with an earpiece in his ear. These aren’t visitors to the museum. None of them. It was a mistake to come here, he knew it. His chest tightens.

‘Think about it,’ Myriam says at last. ‘Why would I be interested in Yassim if he wasn’t a terrorist? Why would I care at all?’

Because he’s collecting information about Western war crimes, Jacob wants to scream. Because you’re all working against Assange and Snowden, all of them. That’s why!

He says nothing, only sits up straight in his chair. What would happen if he just stood up and left? Would they let him go? If not, where would they take him? What would they do to him? And how can they be so sure he’s received something from Yassim?

What if she’s right about Yassim? What if Yassim is just using him?

Myriam puts a phone on the table in front of him. On the screen is a picture of a man with a deep tan, very white and meticulously cut hair.

‘Have you seen this man?’ she asks.

He has seen him. He saw him leaving Yassim’s apartment and hopping into a car with diplomatic plates a month ago. Jacob remembers his eyes and his authority, how even through the window he saw how Yassim listened to him.

‘Who is that?’ Jacob asks quietly.

‘Gregorij Korolov,’ Myriam says. ‘A Russian spy. Somewhat of a legend, actually. We think he met with your boyfriend. And we want to know what the hell that’s all about.’

Jacob thinks about that night in the garden. About Yassim’s eyes, how he listened to him yesterday at the late-night cafe. About how he still doesn’t really know anything at all.

‘No,’ he says, looking straight into Myriam’s eyes. ‘I have never seen him.’

He doesn’t know where he finds the strength or courage to do it, but he stands up before he even realizes it, as if his spine has reacted without the help of his brain.