The Ramli diplomat who left the first class cabin of the early morning Egypt Air flight from Cairo seemed to be sensitive to the mild autumnal English weather, judging from the way he had wrapped the folds of his white ghutra tightly around his lower jaw, leaving only his nose and sunglasses on show. He kept himself withdrawn and aloof through the VIP passport control at Heathrow, in a manner the immigration officials would be likely to expect of visiting dignitaries from the Gulf region.
A dark-skinned man in an impeccable black suit brightened by a yellow silk tie was waiting to take command of the porter and to whisk the Arab sheikh through the chaos of the terminal lobby to the comfort of a dark-blue Jaguar carrying the plates of the Royal Embassy of Ramliyya.
Inside the car the traveller unfolded his headdress and peered out of the tinted window.
‘Everything is arranged, Hasan?’ he asked, as the car negotiated the heavy airport traffic.
‘As you instructed, Hadratak,’ the driver nodded.
‘The house?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have sent my card to the names on the list I gave you?’
‘Exactly as you directed, Excellency.’
‘Any contact from our ‘associates’?’
‘I expect your guests from Ireland and Peru to arrive on Saturday; the others have not yet replied to your latest instructions.’
The backseat passenger looked out intently at the drab scenery of the M4 motorway as the driver made for the exit of the M25.
‘And the girl?’ asked the passenger, still absorbed with the view.
‘You will see her tomorrow morning, Excellency, at eleven o’clock.’