‘No.’ Bannerman moved towards the nearer end of the table and both men sat down to face each other along its length. Jansen was not as Bannerman had imagined. He seemed much older. There was a fullness still to his dark hair, but it was shot through with grey. His face was drawn, cheekbones high and angular, large eyes brown and watery as if he were on the verge of tears. His long, straight nose was almost aristocratic. But the line of the jaw was weakened by a loosening of the flesh at his neck, and skin that had turned the texture of crepe. Yet Bannerman knew that this was a man still only in his late forties. It showed only in the way he held himself, eyes gazing steadily back at Bannerman. His smile lacked warmth and he spoke with a voice that was clear and without accent.

‘My father built this house,’ he said. ‘And my mother still lives in it. You will have something to drink before we eat?’

‘Whisky.’

Jansen lifted a small bell from the table and rang it. A young man entered from an adjoining room. Without turning his head Jansen spoke to him briefly in Flemish. The young man disappeared and returned with a decanter of whisky and two glasses. He poured the drinks at each place and left. Jansen raised his glass.

‘Your very good health, Mr Bannerman.’ They drank in silence before Jansen said, ‘Shall we talk before we eat?’

‘I’d prefer that.’

Jansen clasped his hands together on the table in front of him and waited. They were like two chess players, and Bannerman had the first move.

He made his opening gambit. ‘You knew a man called Robert Gryffe.’

‘Is that a question or a statement?’

‘Both. But it is a question only out of politeness.’

Jansen smiled the same cold smile. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I knew him. But not well. I met him on only a handful of occasions.’

‘And Tim Slater?’

‘I did not even know he existed until I read about him in the newspapers.’ He shook his head. ‘I know what you are thinking, Mr Bannerman. But you are wrong. The assumption from what you and I both know is clear. That Mr Slater came into possession of certain knowledge with which he was blackmailing Mr Gryffe. But that is a conclusion we have both come to in hindsight. If that was the case, then I knew nothing about it. And I certainly had nothing to do with their deaths. Even if I had known . . .’ He paused to smile again. ‘You see, I can weather the storm of a scandal over illegal arms sales.’

‘You don’t deny it then?’ Bannerman had been absorbing the other man’s words with a growing unease.