‘However,’ continued Kareem, ‘this part of the story is about their actions, not mine.’ He stood and peered at the ceiling, addressing it in the same monotone. ‘Why does one of you not come and retrieve the coffee you left behind? Let us not be the cause of waste.’ He turned to Patrick. ‘Unless you would like to pour yourself a cup first.’

Patrick attempted a conspiratorial smile. ‘I’ll leave it for them. J is always thirsty.’

‘Yes, J. A fluid, slippery character.’ He moved closer, lowering his voice. ‘The woman is more to be trusted. Not unattractive, do you think?’ The voice was not low enough to evade the invisible listeners – deliberately so, Patrick assumed. A small move in whatever game Kareem was playing. ‘They brought me here illegally.’

‘How?’

‘I believe the correct word is kidnap. I was walking near my flat. It is a quiet residential street. A large black car with tinted windows drew up. Three men jumped out and bundled me inside, placing me on the back seat between two of them. They were fast and professional.’

‘Did you try to resist?’

‘I do not deploy personal violence.’

Kareem leant towards the table and extracted a cigarette from a pack of black Russian Sobranies. Beside it was a gold Dunhill lighter. He drew lightly from the filter-tip and exhaled a gentle plume of smoke. ‘They supplied the cigarettes. It is good when people do their research. The lighter, however, is mine. Perhaps their budget could not match it.’ Taking another draw, he gazed at the bricked courtyard through the window panels; Patrick detected in him a satisfaction, pride even.

He rested the cigarette on a glass ashtray sitting on the sofa arm. ‘After twenty minutes or so we arrived. I had the impression that a space in front of the house had been vacated. The man who spoke in the car showed me the rooms, invited me to make myself at home and inquired whether I would like any refreshment. He said a visitor would soon arrive.’ He looked up again at the ceiling. ‘This was J.’

‘What were your first impressions of him?’

‘I thought he was somewhat scruffy. I was initially more interested that he was carrying a case from my flat, neatly packed with clothing, a washbag, an assembly of necessities from my bathroom.’ He smiled fleetingly. ‘Perhaps that was cheaper too – saved them buying new.’

‘They entered your flat.’

‘Yes, burglary. Add that to the charge sheet.’ Patrick produced a slim notepad and pencil from his chest pocket. ‘Put it away, there is no need.’ He paused. ‘I realise this will get me nowhere – I understand what they call deniability.’

‘We have laws in this country.’