‘Not even the ones we love, or like to think we love, are as important to us as ourselves. It is the true human condition, you see. It’s what we all feel but are ashamed to admit. Why, I don’t know. For selfishness is the essence of existence.’

He spread his hands to either side as if dispensing reason.

‘What, for example, determines the way we vote in an election? Of course, we vote for the party we judge will bring us the best advantage. Why do we weep when a loved one dies? Because of our own loss. All motivation is selfish, even religious motivation where the reward for a life lived piously on earth is eternal life in Heaven. And so am I motivated. When I think of selling arms to anyone I weigh up the advantages and the disadvantages. If the rewards are high, and the risks low, I proceed. But, as I told you, when it comes to murder . . . well, I would have decided against it. While the advantages might have been considerable, they would certainly have been outweighed by the risks.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘Do you see?’

Bannerman nodded. He saw only too well. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I see that you are a man who cannot ever have known love, either as something given or received. Of course people are selfish. That is an instinctive thing, self-preservation, perpetuation of the species. But we have other qualities too. Or at least, most of us do. There is a balance in our design. For each personality trait necessarily there must be an opposite. As in all natural things. Night and day, light and dark, summer and winter. In people the contrasts are more subtle, but they are there if you look for them. Love and hate, anger and forgiveness, greed and generosity, selfishness and compassion.’

He leaned forward with his elbows on the table in front of him.

‘The thing is, Jansen, that without one the other can’t exist. Without night there is no day. Without hate there is no love. Without compassion there is no self. What you are is an aberration. One of nature’s rare mistakes. My problem is that I’m not quite sure whether I believe you or not.’

Jansen listened in silence, his face drawn and expressionless, before presenting a pale imitation of his earlier smile. ‘Most unfortunate,’ he said. ‘I had hoped you might be corruptible. I should not have asked you here otherwise. Perhaps I was wrong. A man like you can’t be bought . . . can he?’ He paused expectantly and Bannerman stared at him for a moment.

‘Is that a question or a statement?’

Jansen smiled his first genuine smile. ‘You think you are very clever, don’t you, Mr Bannerman?’

Bannerman said, ‘I don’t think I’ll bother with the meal.’ He stood up and drained his glass. ‘Good whisky, though. Scotch, of course.’