Two men in grey suits, wearing understated ties, and keeping a low profile, sat in the corner of the lounge bar sipping gin and tonic. Their heads were close together, and they did not raise their voices or laugh. Percival and Loretta Lovell-Wynthrop and Qamar Yunosov, seated at a central table, drank their way down a bottle of red wine while they waited for their meal. Qamar had adopted his new friends’ advice and chosen to order the same slow-cooked lamb shoulder served with seasonal vegetables and a rich gravy. The only difference was that he had opted for mashed potato, whereas they ordered chips.
Percival was in a convivial mood and, confident that Loretta would drive them home, made rapid progress with the wine, matched by the heavy-drinking Uzbek pianist. They soon finished the 75c
