She brushed past him and went upstairs. A dinner jacket was so much part of evening life that he could do the change in ten minutes. He retreated to his own study; he couldn’t leave the letter until they returned – the label begged too many questions. He sat down, switched on his desk lamp, opened it with a paper knife and read. There was no letter heading and no date.

Dear Sir Francis

I write to you as a result of my involvement with a secret arm of government relevant to your Inquiry. Therefore I must remain anonymous.

It is within your remit to investigate certain activities by the state whose exposure will have devastating consequences. I can supply you with information, so far withheld from you, which will enable you to launch such an investigation.

I will deal only with you personally. Please understand that any communication by you via phone, email or any other electronic means may be being noted.

Neither my contact with you, nor my communications with you, nor any material I give you is to be logged into the Inquiry’s database. They are for your eyes only. If you do log the material, I will know and contact will cease.

If you wish to proceed, please leave me a message saying simply Yes or No using the methodology in the accompanying note.

Please know me simply as ‘Sayyid’.

It felt like a punch in the ribs; Francis Morahan had never received a communication that so startled him. He sat, eyes fixed, rereading it for a second and third time. He checked his watch; at the same time a cry came from above. ‘Francis! It’s twenty past six.’

He opened the middle right drawer of his desk, restored the letter to the envelope, placed it beneath a pile of other papers, stood to find a key concealed behind a particular book in a shelf above and locked the drawer with it. Beads of sweat formed on his cheeks – locking drawers was an unfamiliar act since he had left politics.

Upstairs in his dressing room, his cufflinks seemed to slide into their eyes less smoothly than usual; his hands tying the black bow were jittery. He sensed his wife watching through the door.

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, fine.’ He completed the struggle with the tie. ‘Don’t know what’s the matter with the bloody thing tonight.’

‘I’ll go down and tell the driver to wait.’