He moved away through the crowd towards a small stage with a lectern. Silva craned her neck to see over the people in front of her. The crowd had surged forward like kids at a tweeny-pop gig, but she still couldn’t understand what the fuss was about. Then there was another round of applause as Mavers stepped up to the lectern.

‘Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.’ Mavers’s voice boomed out, the PA system totally redundant. ‘The new American Room is a fitting symbol of the pan-Atlantic relationship. A gallery filled with portraits of notable Americans right here on British soil. I wonder if Thomas Paine could have envisaged such a thing when he set sail two and a half centuries ago.’ Here Mavers paused for a burst of laughter. ‘Anyway, without further ado, I’m pleased to introduce the benefactor who made the new gallery possible.’ Mavers swung an arm out to one side where a tall brunette with striking features and iceberg-blue eyes stood waiting. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, Karen Hope.’

Silva clutched at Sean, her legs almost buckling with the shock. Hope climbed the steps to the lectern and the room erupted in cheers and whoops. Silva felt Sean’s hand take hers in a tight grip. If he noticed her reaction he appeared to think it was from excitement.

‘Amazing, huh?’ he said. ‘I told you we’d be witnessing history. This is something you’ll remember for the rest of your life.’

‘Thank you, thank you.’ Hope waved the audience quiet, but in the manner of an experienced politician she continued to milk the applause, not speaking until the clapping had faded to almost nothing. ‘I’m honoured to be here today…’

The speech descended into a fuzz of noise. The woman’s lips moved, mouthing words that made no sound. Sean stood next to Silva, staring in admiration. Nearly everyone was as beguiled as he was, but by the end of the speech, Silva felt physically sick. She excused herself, pushed through the throng and went to find a bathroom.

She sat in the cubicle for a few minutes and then emerged and splashed water on her face. She went back to the gallery to find Sean hovering near the entrance.

‘Where have you been?’ he said. ‘Come on.’

He grabbed her hand and pulled her through the crowded room. There was an inevitability to what happened next, as if some unseen force was pulling her forward. Bodies parted and then Silva was face to face with Karen Hope.

‘Sean Connor.’ Mavers stood alongside Hope. Blustery, sweaty and, all of a sudden, quite obnoxious. ‘Sean’s a rising star in the Agency. One to watch. And Rebecca…’ Mavers turned. ‘Sorry, I didn’t get your last name?’

Silva couldn’t speak. Her mouth opened but there was nothing but a gasp of air.

‘Da Silva,’ Sean said. ‘Rebecca da Silva.’