This was true. The original enthusiasm that the two hostile governments were actually talking to each other had gradually given way to a widespread cynicism that nothing of consequence would emerge from the ‘secret’ meetings the whole world now knew about.

Abboud tugged at one of his cuffs and stared out at the arid valley towards Nicosia. The kestrel was lower in the sky now, moving patiently above the slope, like a gun dog working a field. He said, ‘I tell you, my friend, this time the on dit is wrong. For once talks may lead to something – the administration in Washington seems determined to break the impasse in the Middle East at last, even if it means standing up to Israel. They want a legacy and they have chosen this to create it.’

Was this why Abboud had called an urgent meeting? wondered Templeton. It was all interesting stuff, but hardly worth the risk each man had taken coming here.

Sensing Templeton’s impatience, Abboud held out a reassuring hand. ‘Do not worry – I am coming to the point. I don’t want to stay here any longer than I have to.’ He looked at his watch, a sliver of gold that glinted in the harsh, still-rising sun. ‘In two months’ time there is going to be an international conference in Scotland. You may know about it. It has not attracted much interest so far because only the moderates have agreed to attend. But my government wants progress. We need a settlement for the stability of our country. So we have decided to attend. I am to be part of our delegation, which is why Tibshirani told me the story.’ He raised his eyes to the sky.

‘What story?’

‘We have information that certain parties are working to disrupt the process. We know of two individuals acting to prevent any peaceful solution to the current stalemate. They intend to blacken the good name of Syria and thus to destroy all trust at the conference.’ ‘How will they do that?’

‘I don’t know. But I can tell you my friend that if they succeed there will be a bloodbath in the region.’