‘At least you have manners. You may call me Kareem.’ He looked across to J. ‘Others were not always so courteous. Is my relationship with my solicitor confidential?’

‘Of course, Kareem,’ said Isobel. Patrick noticed that J did not react at her assumption of command. The voice was deep, the accent classless; he wondered whether she had changed it upwards to match the clubbiness of the intelligence services at the time, well over two decades before, when she would have been recruited. Or perhaps, when the organisations themselves changed to be open to all, she adapted – a posh girl from a well-connected family assimilating to the new egalitarianism.

‘Thank you, Isobel,’ said Kareem, enveloping her in a radiant smile.

She smiled back and turned to J, reshaping the creases as a frown. ‘Shall we make ourselves scarce?’ J cast a regretful glance at the undrunk cafétière and followed her out of the room.

‘Come, Patrick,’ said Kareem, waving him towards the sofa. ‘Now you can tell me why they selected you.’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Perhaps it is because you are black and I am brown. The Nigger and the Arab.’

‘Why would they do that?’

‘Because they misunderstand the racism that might divide you and me – or because they understand it all too well.’

‘You overestimate them.’

‘In any case, neither you nor I would fall for it as we do not share their own racial misconceptions.’

‘Correct. I was just the next cab on the rank.’

‘The rank of Her Majesty’s Government’s Treasury Solicitors.’

‘Why do you make that assumption?’

‘Because it is true, of course. There is no need to embarrass yourself by confirming or denying it. You also are a young and inexperienced lawyer who might do as he is told.’

‘You’re my client, Kareem,’ said Patrick. The taunting liberated him. However many secret cameras and buried microphones were being watched and listened to by Len, whoever he was, no doubt with Isobel and J alongside, he would play the role they’d allotted him under his own rules. ‘I take my instructions only from you.’

Kareem shrugged. ‘No matter. Let us start with how I come to be here.’

‘They’ll be monitoring,’ said Patrick.

‘Of course they will be.’ Patrick hoped the admission would build confidence but it cut no ice. He needed to be smarter. The speech patterns of the man beside him were an indication of a precise mind, perhaps also a need to show perfect mastery of a second language. No contractions, every word delineated, all in the same modulated, clipped pitch. A man who had learnt not to raise his voice, whatever might seethe inside.