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Mr Declan O’Reilly stepped out onto the pavement and waited for his wife to join him.

•••

When Khalil’s driver dropped him off at the Palace Hotel a few minutes later, he walked straight into the hotel and began to look for O’Reilly, who had agreed to meet him in the lobby, but there was no sign of the Irishman. He assumed he was getting his money’s worth.

On the other side of the lobby, Jim made his second call to the embassy. After briefing the Ambassador, never raising his voice, he put down the phone while keeping a close eye on Khalil, who was speaking animatedly on his mobile along with accompanying hand movements resembling an out-of-control conductor.

‘Where the hell is he?’ he demanded. ‘Because he isn’t in the lobby and it can’t have taken him that long.’

‘He hasn’t come back out of his suite yet,’ said Salim. ‘Do you want me to break in and find out what’s going on?’

‘Not yet. Don’t move until I call you.’ Khalil turned off his phone and headed for reception.

‘How can I help you, sir?’ asked the girl behind the counter.

‘Put me through to Mr Declan O’Reilly in the Presidential Suite.’

‘You do realize it’s two o’clock in the morning, sir,’ said the receptionist.

‘I do,’ said Khalil, ‘but it’s an emergency. Mr O’Reilly’s mother has been taken to hospital and he needs to catch the first plane back to Dublin.’

‘I’ll put you straight through, sir.’

Khalil waited as the phone continued to ring and ring, until finally the receptionist said, ‘I’m sorry, sir, but no one seems to be answering. But if you leave me a message, along with your name, I’ll get one of the porters to slip a note under his door immediately.’

Khalil turned his back on her and began dialling.

‘Who’s waking me at this ungodly hour?’ demanded the Chief of Police.

•••

Mr and Mrs O’Reilly ran into the concourse and headed straight for the British Airways desk.

‘How may I help you, sir?’ asked the booking clerk.

‘I’d like two business-class tickets for your flight to Heathrow,’ said Ross, looking up at the departure board.

The booking clerk began tapping away. ‘I’m afraid businessclass is sold out, sir, but I do have a couple of vacant seats in first class.’

Ross thought about Mr Trevelyan, but only for a moment, before he handed over his credit card and two passports. He looked around to check if anyone in uniform was entering the terminal. Several cabin crew, but no sign of a policeman.

The clerk handed back their passports along with two first-class tickets. ‘Thank you, Mr Hogan,’ she said. ‘Your flight has just begun boarding.’

‘Thank you,’ replied Ross, his Irish accent more pronounced. They both left the desk and quickly headed for Departures.

The officer at passport control only glanced at both passports before stamping them. ‘You’d better hurry, Mr O’Reilly,’ he said. ‘Your flight will be departing in a few minutes’ time.’

•••

The Chief of Police’s car came to a skidding halt outside the entrance to the airport. He jumped out of his car with Khalil a yard behind and ran into Departures. He went straight to the British Airways desk.

Slightly out of breath, the Chief asked, ‘Have you booked two passengers on your flight to Heathrow during the last hour?’

‘Several,’ replied the booking clerk. ‘Do you have a name?’

‘O’Reilly,’ said Hani Khalil, who had caught up with him.

‘No one has booked in with that name,’ she confirmed.