‘I used a standard template. J filled in the main figures – Isobel had left the room, I got the impression she didn’t want to dirty her hands any further. I added Kareem’s indemnities as an appendix. Tried to make it read like a bureaucratic formality.’

‘Did you get Barron’s approval in writing?’

Patrick looked crestfallen. ‘I hinted that would make me more comfortable. He just laughed. Told me not to be a muppet.’

‘It gets worse and worse.’ She paused, recalling again the final words of Elizabeth Green. ‘Did they do tests on him?’

‘What tests?’

‘Psychometric, for example. Didn’t they think of bringing in a psychiatrist or psychologist?’

‘It was never raised.’

‘I don’t understand their confidence.’

‘It was Isobel more than J. She’d made her decision and that seemed to be it. J wasn’t being modest, he really was just the sidekick.’

‘Kareem charmed her, overwhelmed her,’ said Sara. ‘Just like with Marion…’

‘Yes?’

‘Nothing. I was wandering.’

She was baulking at something; he tried not to show he’d seen it. ‘Maybe so, but it wasn’t just that. I got the impression that Kareem was excited.’

‘Because it pandered to his self-regard?’ She was staring down at her hands.

‘Yes. That’s exactly how it felt.’ How much more did she know, or understand, about Kareem?

She raised her eyes. ‘Finish the story.’

‘Len the “driver” had facilities in his little front office. Computer, printer, photocopier, scanner. We made three copies of the contract, signature page at the back. I took it out to Kareem. He read it silently and slowly, far more slowly than was needed to take it in. I could feel him celebrating within but his face didn’t even twitch. Finally, he signed all three, handed them back to me and said, “I’ll wait out here for my counter-signed and witnessed copy.” Not a further word, let alone a thank you. I went back inside—’

‘Who ended up as the counter-signatory?’ asked Sara. He wearily rubbed his eyes. ‘I don’t need to ask, do I?’ He shook his head once. ‘Oh, Patrick. And the witness?’

‘Len. Isobel and John – I forget his surname – had disappeared, J just looked at the ceiling. Len Rogerson, it said on the page. That certainly wasn’t his name. I later discovered that the address he gave was a block of council flats that had been demolished several months before.’

‘But your name and address were genuine.’

‘Yes.’ He slapped both palms on the table and looked beseechingly at her. ‘I was still in my twenties – just – for God’s sake,’ he whispered fiercely. ‘It was my first real government job. I felt… corralled. As if this was my big initiation test and my whole career might depend on it.’

‘Who kept the three signed copies?’

‘Kareem himself, a second was taken by J. I took the third.’

‘What did you do with it?’