Bannerman said, ‘The trouble is that most of that evidence hasn’t been made public. Yet. But you and I both know, don’t we? The left-handed Slater with the gun in his right hand. The quarter of a million dollars in the suitcase. Slater’s air tickets to the States. The break-in at Slater’s apartment within half an hour of the murders. Perhaps you forget that I was there.’

The Minister dropped his voice, and his smile had vanished. ‘You have no evidence to support any of this, Bannerman . . . It’s just journalistic fantasy.’ Gone too, now, was the ‘mister’. ‘You’d do well to be very careful what you put in print.’

Bannerman almost laughed. ‘Or what? You’ll sue me? For writing the truth? Last thing you’d want to do is wash all that dirty linen in public, surely?’

It was Bannerman’s turn now to place a friendly arm around the shoulder of the Minister. He steered him ever further from the bar and spoke in hushed tones. ‘You know what I think, Foreign Secretary? I think that Robert Gryffe was up to something that might have proved very embarrassing to the government. I think Timothy Slater knew what that was. And to put it bluntly, was blackmailing him.’

The Minister was frowning, but superficially he had lost none of his composure. He had donned his mask of sincerity and now adopted a different tack. ‘Just how good is your information, Neil?’ He looked searchingly at the reporter.

‘Good enough.’

‘Because if what you say is true then it may well be that we shall have to take another look at the whole thing. It may be that the Belgian authorities have kept vital information from us. We should get together, you and I, and discuss the source of your information.’

Bannerman smiled. ‘Now, Minister, you know I would never discuss my sources. And if you are really so misinformed, then you will be of little help to me.’ Pause. ‘But I’ll tell you what. When I’ve got my story together I’ll call you and you can give me your on-the-record reaction. Hopefully I will have things tied up and out of the way before the election. Either way, I promise, you’ll be the first to know.’

Bannerman almost admired the Minister’s ability to prevent his facial expressions from betraying what lay behind them, particularly after the somersaults he had been forced to make in the last few minutes.

The journalist leaned over to lay his glass on a table. ‘By the way, I must apologize,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid I shan’t be able to stay for dinner. I do hope it goes well, though.’ He extended a hand to shake the Minister’s. ‘Goodbye, sir.’ And he headed out to the cloakroom to retrieve his coat.