Portraits of illustrious personages hang on the walls, but the eyes of the guests tonight are drawn to the four people on the receiving line. The tall, dark-haired PM and his elegant wife, a slender, darkskinned man who is generally acknowledged to be the most powerful man in the world, and the woman at his side, who might look poised but whose hands have not stopped shaking for days, and who wakes several times a night stifling a scream. Mark Joesbury, in the suit he hasn’t worn since he was best man at his brother’s wedding five years ago, waits patiently in line for his turn. He shakes the Prime Minister’s hand, then that of his wife. ‘Mr President, this is Detective Inspector Mark Joesbury of Scotland Yard and Constable Lacey Flint of the Marine Policing Unit.’ The usher stands just to one side, introducing all the guests as they are greeted by the President. ‘The two officers were chosen at random this evening to represent the service that is charged with your protection during your official visits.’ The President holds out his hand and says, ‘Good to see you, Mr Joesbury.
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