‘He’s a musician and that’s what occupies him. He hasn’t time for politics.’

Don’t say too much.

‘Does he approve of how the State handles the economy?’ He reached down, opened the briefcase at his feet and took out a Hershey bar. He placed it beside the telephone on the table. ‘Do you know this is forbidden capitalist chocolate? It was found in the rucksack you were carrying.’

She glanced at it. ‘It’s not mine.’

He shook his head gently. ‘Best not to contradict. Where did you get it from?’ Laure was silent. ‘I think it was given to you by your boyfriend who obtained it illegally from the Tuzex store.’

‘Do you mean those shops that only the elite can shop in?’

He did not blink. ‘There’s no point in being rude, Miss Carlyle. Or childish.’

‘I’m sorry.’ She forced herself to think clearly. ‘Anyone can walk into a Tuzex then?’

‘Indeed. All are welcome. But not everyone is entitled to Tuzex crowns with which to shop in them, and certainly not your boyfriend, which means he must have obtained the money on the black market. Engaging with the black market is considered an imprisonable offence.’ Laure widened her eyes and fought for calm but, the experienced bully that he was, he detected her growing unease. ‘If you think about it, it’s just. The average wage is 3,000 crowns a month. Some of these black marketeers are making anything up to 250,000 crowns a month.’

‘I can’t comment on that,’ she answered. ‘But the chocolate isn’t mine and he didn’t give it to me.’

He folded his hands and looked benignly at her over them. ‘Oh dear.’

By now, the room’s lack of ventilation was telling on her and she found herself hoping desperately for Petr Kobes to arrive. ‘Are you going to interrogate me for having a bar of chocolate?’

‘My dear girl, is this an interrogation? I’m just asking some questions, that’s all.’

Cleverly done. The chocolate had been planted and she might be able to argue them around to accepting that it was not hers. However, having admitted she only saw him two or three times a week, she knew she could not prove that Tomas had not bought black-market ‘bony’ in order to spend it at the Tuzex.

Wasn’t there a protocol on which she could call? She wondered if she could demand for someone to come from the British Consulate. Was there a British Consulate in Prague?

At that moment, the telephone rang. A blaring, discordant intrusion into the near silence and it made Laure jump out of her skin. Major Hasík picked up the receiver, said his name and listened. ‘I understand,’ he said and put down the phone. ‘I’m afraid your employer has been detained, which means we’ll have to keep you until he is able to come.’ He managed to look regretful.