Inside, the conversation flowed, as did the drinks, and Edward was on his fourth when they began to talk business. Idris was still nursing his first. He’d tried drinking when he was young but it hadn’t been worth the guilt. It wasn’t that he was looking to appease Allah; it was that every time he put a step wrong he felt his dead mother’s disapproving eyes on him, and that was enough to stop any man drinking, let alone a Pukhtun. Still, a social drink was an integral part of the lawyerly life, and clients and colleagues were wary of networking sober. Saying no to a drink meant dragging up that great wall of difference, the wall that separated ‘them’ from ‘us’ and led to the sort of questions about religious ideology that every Asian Muslim kid dreaded. The only respectable answer to ‘Why aren’t you drinking? Is it against your religion?’ was ‘I’m an alcoholic’. But no one wants to do business with a man who overshares. And a man who overshares and can’t handle his liquor might as well declare himself bankrupt. So Idris would order one drink and keep it in his hand all evening.

‘I’ve been dealing with suppliers since Jesus was in nappies. You expect me to believe that you can seriously supply all the needs of our one hundred and forty thousand employees every week? What are you operating? Some kind of Deliveroo for drugs?’

Idris took a black folder from his briefcase and handed it to Edward. He flicked through the file, stopping at the first page. It detailed the names, addresses and personal details of every one of his employees, from the cleaning lady to the senior partners, and there were pictures. Pictures of powder being cut and snorted, sexual liaisons, of partners doing things they shouldn’t. Edward unbuttoned his collar. ‘How did you get this?’ he said.

‘It’s part of the service,’ said Idris. ‘We run a tech company. Data is our business.’

‘If I didn’t know you to be a man of integrity I’d think you were about to blackmail me.’ Edward laughed nervously. ‘You know my crowd, my colleagues, my clients – they aren’t your average street-corner junkies. They’re connoisseurs. While I trust you, I need to make sure you understand?’

‘I do,’ said Idris. ‘You’re in safe hands. I wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.’

Jia arrived. Edward greeted her warmly. He knew her well from the old days. She took a seat opposite the two men.

‘Why hasn’t this been done already?’ asked Edward.