She shook him off and her French grew more rapid and he wondered if it was to prevent the driver understanding. ‘You know – we all know now – it was also an intelligence and counterintelligence agency dealing with any activity which was considered anti-state or thought to be influenced by the West. You may have been working for Potio Pharma but you also worked for StB.’

She opened her handbag and produced a paper. Unfolding it, she laid it on his knee, making sure that the initial logo for StB’s masquerade company at the top of the page, which only he and his colleagues would know, was visible.

He felt himself go pale. Glancing at the driver, he said, ‘Put that away.’

‘If you answer this question. Is that your signature at the bottom?’

The driver dropped his speed and turned east into Unter den Linden.

Petr stared ahead. ‘Where did you get hold of that?’ He didn’t expect the answer and ran over the possibilities of who might be responsible – the careless or the traitorous. There were plenty of both operating in the relevant departments. ‘Was it Brotton?’

‘You don’t expect me to answer, do you?’ Laure replaced the document in her bag. ‘There is further documentation that alleges you had direct links to a unit in the StB known to have used drugs and torture to obtain confessions.’

‘I know why you’re doing this, Laure.’

‘Then we agree on one thing.’

‘Be careful what you wish for? Isn’t that another saying in your country?’

A single snowflake floated across the car window, followed by a second.

‘What happened to Tomas?’

Now, Petr understood. She wanted to obtain the information out of him on her terms.

When he did not reply, she added, ‘You owe me, Petr.’ She shaded her eyes. ‘Does it make it better if I say that it’s torture not knowing… does my weakness appeal to your better nature? It should.’

‘If that’s blackmail it doesn’t work, Laure.’

She didn’t deny it. Her lips tightened. ‘You can find out, I know you can. You have so many contacts. Old scores. Old paybacks that you can call in.’

His hand rested on the armrest, testing its padded luxury under his fingertips. ‘Tomas never goes away.’

‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Laure. ‘And won’t. And certainly not while we know each other.’

What had happened to them in the past was too difficult to admit friendship. All the same, Petr had an idea that, on a certain level, Laure was pleased to see him.

He sighed. ‘He was arrested, but you know that. It wasn’t the first time, so it would be bad for him. That’s the sum of my knowledge. It was as it was. People vanished. All the time, Laure. You saw it.’

‘But you had a vested interest and would have made it your business to find out.’