Me and Marina reach the tail of the queue. A Cerel man glances back at us and nods, before facing forwards again. It looks like the queue ends around the back of the building. Although I can’t see anything much in this covered walkway, the House of Law must be looming above us now. Shafts of sunlight shine through the wooden planks of the roof, but I can’t make out anything else.

Marina pulls out a grubby square of cotton and gives a few tentative coughs. She makes a face at me, as if to say, I’m not very good at play-acting. The man in front of us takes a step forwards. Behind us, an older couple joins the queue. Marina, recognising the woman, exchanges a few words. They ask no questions of each other, and soon lapse into silence. The atmosphere in the passageway seems to stifle small talk. The queue inches slowly forwards.

I become aware of a change in tempo outside in the square. I find a gap in the boards where I can get a glimpse of what’s happening. A sleek black automobile is gliding slowly across the square. People are standing back respectfully. Men who are wearing hats take them off.

Marina tugs at my sleeve. “Keep moving,” she whispers.

I hurry forwards to find another gap. There are people in dark suits standing around the parked automobile. A man is climbing out of the back of the vehicle now. This thickset man stands and looks around. His gaze sweeps the square, though he doesn’t turn towards the Cerel passageway. What is the expression on his face – pride? Self-satisfaction? The familiar-looking man slides his hand over his shiny, immaculate hair. His face is pale in the sunlight, the nose curved and the brow smooth. He seems like a man who is used to giving orders. A man who sleeps in a comfortable bed. A man used to luxury. He emanates a supreme self-confidence. But then, maybe these are things I just expect to see in him.

A woman in a flowing black dress is hurrying towards the man, both hands outstretched. But he is already turning away, turning his attention towards the House of Law.

Then Marina grabs a handful of my jacket and hauls me along. With a sigh, I rejoin the queue, having seen enough.

It is the Director.

9