Idris knew he was a brilliant lawyer. He had an eye for fine details and loopholes that had saved clients millions and made them as much if not more. Working in London had been enjoyable at first; the bright lights and luxury had seduced him. But then time had taught him the truth: that success did not always come from hard work – it came from who you drank with, fucked, and your family name – and that power and money came to those who had wielded it since birth or were willing to sell the meat of their morals for it. It was they who controlled the political landscape, business and high society, and they who decided your fate.

And so he found himself falling out of love with the British justice system; it didn’t bring him the salvation he needed. He saw how easily the law was manipulated to control people, people who were like him in race and religion, the ones without connection and network. He listened as so-called educated types spoke of their attitudes, beginning sentences with phrases such as ‘I’m not racist but’ and ending them with ‘not you, of course, you’re different’.

He found himself floundering, unable to make sense of the path he’d chosen. He began staying home instead of partying with clients, which was bad for business. He dabbled in religion online, meeting like-minded types who claimed to be purer, more virtuous, than the corporate West; but when he dug a little deeper he found their ideologies twisted. He retreated further into himself.

In the end, it was the law of his family, of his ancestors, of Pukhtunwali, that saved him. It made better sense to him than the rules of crown and country, and it needed defending. He turned his back on the London career, and went home.

So when the large clock that hung behind the reception desk of his friend’s firm told him he’d been kept waiting for almost forty-five minutes, he was not surprised. It was a sign that he had been downgraded on the ladder of business courtesy.

When he finally arrived, Edward was apologetic but only superficially so. He looked dishevelled despite the sharp suit and shirt. ‘Idris,’ he said. ‘Sorry I kept you waiting so long. Billable hours! Some days I wonder why I go home. Come on, let’s go get a drink. I could use one after the day I’ve had. And the little something extra, if you’ve brought it?’

Edward’s car was waiting outside. Fifteen minutes later they pulled up outside a nondescript black door. A young brunette greeted them with a warm smile reserved only for the clients of London’s most exclusive private members’ club.