‘Do you have any friends called Sayyid, Sylvia? A nickname maybe. Even an alias.’

‘If I did, I couldn’t tell you. If I say I don’t, you won’t know whether to believe me.’

‘I’ll believe your answer, Sylvia,’ said Sara. It was her first intervention.

‘Sara Shah,’ she hissed. ‘Sara Shah. Do I remember?’ Sylvia frowned at her, then shook her head. ‘No. Distraction. You wanted an answer.’

‘Sayyid,’ prompted Sara.

‘Sayyid. Sayyid.’ The same mantra, the memory whirring – no fakery, thought Sara. ‘Nothing. Nothing comes.’

‘How deaf are your walls?’ asked Patrick.

‘Stone deaf. Deaf and dumb.’

‘We need to see J.’

‘I’m sure you do. As we all do.’

‘I mean now.’ He began to retrieve the files. ‘I want him to see these. So we understand.’

‘Don’t make his life difficult.’

‘If you tell me where he is, I promise I won’t.’

She turned to Sara. ‘I promise too.’

Sylvia leafed through a Rolodex file and stopped at an initial that was neither J, W nor T. Sara wondered what her code was – it certainly didn’t delay finding the information she needed. She leant down, picked up a mobile phone from her handbag and dialled a number from the Rolodex rather than the phone’s memory. It was answered immediately. Sylvia walked over to a window, turned her back and had a brief conversation out of their earshot. In what seemed no time at all, she was walking back – the call seemed too short to contain the information it needed to convey. She sat at her computer and entered a website – neither dared to peep over her shoulder as she searched.

She looked up. ’11.37, St Pancras to Deal. He’ll be waiting for you at the pier at 1.15. He said it’s either now, in the hope that word of your arrival doesn’t get out in time, or not at all. Now go, and we’ll never speak of this again.’

Without a ‘thank you’, understanding it might not be appreciated, Sara and Patrick turned on their heels, exited, locked themselves inside the Legal office and walked over to their window.

‘It worked,’ said Patrick.

‘You took one big risk there,’ she replied. ‘You still can’t be sure she’s on-side. I sometimes have the feeling she’s watching us.’

‘Me too. But not like that, I think. More the guardian angel.’ He stared out of the window, confirming some distant truth. ‘I’ve sensed it for a while. She hates them. But honestly, I didn’t remember that encounter till just now. Even when I said it, I wasn’t confident.’

‘She remembered.’

‘Oh yes, she certainly did. She doesn’t forget. Or forgive.’

Chapter 25

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