‘Yes,’ she says. ‘I really do. Believe me. And I understand that it’s selfish of us to try to pull you into something you haven’t asked to be a part of. But Jacob is not a terrorist. I’m not a terrorist. I think you know that.’

Hassan looks at her. Then he stands up and takes a few steps over to a cabinet inside one of the bookshelves. ‘Forgive me my rudeness,’ he says.

Klara catches a glimpse of mirrored glass and bottles when he opens the door.

‘What can I offer you? I have most things, I’m afraid.’

He glances at her with a slight smile. Klara feels a familiar urge, a kind of low-intensity euphoria awakening.

When he turns around he’s holding a very nice bottle of malt whisky and two glasses in his hand.

‘I think this evening requires whisky,’ he says, putting two coasters on the table before setting down the glasses.

Klara swallows deep and pulls her eyes away from the bottle. ‘Nothing for me, thank you,’ she says.

‘No?’ Hassan says, disappointed. ‘You don’t like whisky? I have other options to choose from.’

Klara turns to him and looks straight into his eyes. ‘I like it too much,’ she says quietly. ‘Please don’t offer it to me again. I’m not sure I can resist.’

Without a word, Hassan collects the glasses and the bottle and puts them back into the cabinet.

‘I’m sorry,’ Klara says. ‘I didn’t mean you couldn’t drink.’

Hassan sits down in the chair again. ‘I should be the one apologizing. I didn’t know.’

She shakes her head. ‘How could you? I barely do myself. This is… I’ve had some hard years.’

Hassan smiles quietly. He doesn’t need to say anything. Those eyes. Those dignified, gentlemanly eyes are proof enough that he knows more than a little about hard years. Maybe that’s part of the reason he doesn’t want to get pulled into all this trouble.

‘Jacob is a climber,’ he says. ‘Is that what you call it?’

Klara nods.

‘He wants to move forward, upward. I’ve seen more than a few in my days. They don’t turn into terrorists. There’s something else going on here, I think.’

He rises again and goes over to the bookshelf, pours a few fingers of whisky into a glass after all. He takes a small gulp, turns around, and looks at her again.

‘We’re exposing you to risk,’ she says. ‘I know that.’

‘Yes. But it occurs to me that at my age a man should be grateful for any chance at risk. And I’m a curious person. I want to know what this is all about, what Jacob’s done to make the powers that be so furious with him. Do you want to tell me?’

‘I hoped that you might tell me,’ Klara says.