Jasmine pulled her hand away from the PTT button as if stung by it. Radio silence. Subject must be close to Jim. She wasn’t going to push the button, wasn’t going to forget procedure, wasn’t going to screw up.

Harper had exhibited an agitated air that instantly put her in a state of unease: the demeanour of a man who had already given her two last warnings to stop annoying him. He seemed to be almost buzzing with latent aggression, and she felt as though he was staring right through her, able to read her purpose and intentions as clearly as though they were printed on cue cards in front of him. It struck her with full force that she wasn’t just doorstepping a stranger under false pretences, but doorstepping a stranger of whom it could reasonably be inferred, from the very purpose of her visit, that he was a bit of a crook. The possibility that this bristling individual might do her physical harm seemed palpable; further upsetting him strongly contra-indicated.

‘Can I help you?’ he asked in a monotone grunt, Jasmine interpreting the enquiry as sincere only insofar as he was wondering whether she might require assistance in being imminently strangled and buried.

‘Ehm, it’s, well, sorry to trouble you, I’m, ehm, I’m looking for a man …’

Harper’s eyes narrowed in deeper scrutiny and his nostrils flared. Jasmine’s knees started to feel wobbly.

‘He was, ehm, you see, my dad retired and, ehm, he was in the navy, and he was trying to get in touch with some of the guys he served with, but no, I can see that you’re too young, so you must just have the same name as the guy I’m—’

‘I haven’t told you my name. Who is it you think I am? Where did you get this address?’

Oh God oh God oh God oh God.

Jasmine remembered that the guy was lying low here, and the whole point was that nobody had him listed at this address. It suddenly seemed imperative to give him a different name, in order to allay his suspicions and extricate herself from the situation as quickly as possible.

‘I, ehm, the name I had was, ehm … Hayley,’ she said, the first name that came to mind. Then she realised it was a girl’s name. ‘William. William Hayley.’

‘That’s not me,’ Harper said.

He began to close the door again, which was when it body-slammed her that she had just completely blown the establish.

‘Oh no, wait, Peter Harper,’ she blurted.

‘What?’ he demanded, now looking as suspicious as he was annoyed.

‘I’m also looking for a Peter Harper.’

‘Also? A second ago it was William Hayley.’

‘That was the name … I mean, there’s more than one person I’m looking for …’