We have achieved that rare thing, Kimberley and I: a sexless but intimate rapport between a man and woman of the same age who are mutually attracted to each other but, for reasons beyond analysis, have decided to do nothing about it. Even so, I was surprised when she simply got on a plane in response to a frantic telephone call from me. I had no idea she was specializing in snuff movies, these days, nor did I realise they were flavor of the month in international law enforcement. Anyway, it’s great to have a top-notch pro familiar with the latest technology on my side. She’s not intuitive, like me, but owns a mind like a steel trap. So do I treat her like a woman or a man? Are there any rules about that where she comes from? I give her a comradely embrace and squeeze her hand, which seems to cover most points. “It’s great to have you here, Kimberley,” I say, “thanks again for coming.”

She smiles with that innocence that can follow an emotional catastrophe. “Sorry to be a girl.”

“I was a girl, too, the first time I saw it.”

She nods, unsurprised. “Where did you get it, in a raid?”

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