‘Of course. Could you try that one again, please?’

‘I can try it, certainly.’

The man’s voice would drop in register, and the ‘sir’ would seem just a little ironic. Two beads of sweat rolled down from Michael’s armpits, but he tapped in his personal number, and after the hesitation and consideration, the card was approved. The debt must be four figures by now, but the payment went flying through as if the cash was on the counter, and the man tore the receipts out with a flourish. Suddenly – magically – there was an old-fashioned key on the desk, attached to a wooden fob.

‘I’ll just fill in the form,’ said Michael.

‘Or you can do it in the bar, if you want a drink.’

‘I think I’ll… do it here, and come down for a drink later.’

‘Very good. Can I leave you to it for a moment? The room’s up the stairs, turn right. Everything’s signed, and… will you need a hand with luggage, or…?’

He had realised the guest had nothing, apart from his shoulder bag – and what was in that?

‘I’m fine,’ said Michael. ‘Like I say, I’m travelling light.’

The man replied, ‘If you need anything, like a toothbrush – or a razor… There’ll be someone on call right through the night.’

‘Thank you.’

‘See you later.’

Michael reached his room, and sat on the bed.

It was larger than the bedroom in his flat. The bed was big, and the pillows stood fresh and white beneath a bright cushion that matched the curtains. There was a little dressing table or writing desk, but half of that was given over to a television set. The other end was dominated by a kettle, with tea, coffee and biscuits in a jar. There was a chest of drawers, and over it a painting of a woodpecker. Everything was clean, and he thought how unfair it would be to die here – it would be even more unfair than under the gaze of a poor train driver. But the man at reception had offered a razor, and it was conceivable – if he asked for one – that he might dismantle it for the skinny blade. Was that not expected of him? A seasoned spy would take it apart in an instant, and slash away with the little shard of super-sharp metal: the veins could be open in seconds, if you’d had the training. But to do that here, where the bedcover was so pale, and the carpet so carefully hoovered – it would be monstrously rude.