‘Absurd, isn’t it? Conversely, you can’t leave your door unlocked when you go to the loo in case your bag gets nicked…or your computer.’

I nodded and looked closely at her while also taking in details of the room in a professional fashion. Rooms can speak about character. Books, books and more books, filing cabinets, stacked folders, audio cassettes. She wore what looked like a heavy linen shirt, white, with a string of dark beads around her neck. Dark skirt. I guessed her age at around forty and her character as strong. I wondered if I was being called in on one of those university political cases where factions develop in departments, insults fly and crimes are alleged.

‘Is this a university matter, Dr Farmer? I mean threats, harassment, that sort of thing?’

‘Shit, no,’ she said. ‘Anything like that I could handle myself or go through the union. No, this is personal and nothing to do with my profession. D’you remember Prof Harkness?’

I did. Harkness was an ophthalmologist who saved the sight of a Bougainville patriot who some others patriots were trying to kill. Harkness had needed some protection up to and during the operation. ‘Sure, I remember him.’

‘He operated on me a little while ago. Tied up a muscle to correct a squint. I used to have to wear these thick glasses. Anyway, apparently I babbled a bit under the anaesthetic and he was interested in what I said. We talked. He suggested I get in touch with you. He sings your praises.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Anyone who could’ve been making a million dollars a year in Macquarie Street and doesn’t impresses me. What were you babbling about, Dr Farmer?’

She paused before she answered. She was a very handsome woman, possibly well aware of it but it sat lightly on her. She had a slight frown mark between her eyebrows, probably a result of the corrected squint. Her eyes were large and grey and unwavering. ‘The prof took me seriously and I hope you will as well.’