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not sure I would trust them with involvement in this; I can only discuss it with someone I trust. I admit that it might not be a good idea for you to see it but unless you do you will not know what I am talking about.”
    “It is not the torture that is the cause of the problem. That is abhorrent and repulsive. The problem is that I think I recognise one of the officers conducting the interrogations, and if I am right it could be political dynamite. Are you going to look at it?” 
    I ’d hesitated, “OK,” I ’d nodded, and he slotted the disc in to my DVD player and pressed play.
    The video showed a room with dirty white plaster walls in the centre of which sat a man apparently strapped in to a chair and illuminated by bright lights.  Two men were brandishing what looked like flexible baseball bats, and in between blows they yelled unintelligible questions at him. Periodically they referred to someone off camera, for directions. When the prisoner seemed to go unconscious he was doused in a bucket of water and the beatings paused. Then it started again and amidst the screams and shouted questions, the camera suddenly zoomed out revealing a panel of three men sitting in a row at a table on one side; they were obviously the ones directing events. The camera quickly zoomed back in on the prisoner but not before one had a reasonably clear shot of the three men
    “I don't want to look at much more of this,” I ’d said, “what am I looking for?”
    Adrian rewound to the shot of the three men and froze the image. “Look at the three men sitting to one side, in particular the one on the right, is he not familiar?”
    I ’d looked at the frozen image and tried within the limitations of my player to move it on frame by frame until I had a good image of the man in question. I stopped and stared.
    I ’d looked at Adrian. “You're not really suggesting that is.........it's impossible it couldn't be,” I ’d said.
    “This video was shot some time ago, maybe as much as 8 years ago, possibly in the Middle East or Central Europe perhaps. The man has changed and the photography is also not good, which together with the shadows makes recognition more difficult. “
    I ’d stared again at the image.
    “I have enhanced a still like that and can show you.” With that he ’d taken out a laptop from his bag that was on the floor beside him and fired it up. “We are not used to seeing him in uniform and he has aged but I don't think there is much doubt.”
    There was no doubt; he was looking at a picture of the Vice President of the United States. “What on earth would he be doing there?” I ’d said.
    “Well he was a career CIA man and eventually deputy director of the CIA before he became the presidential running mate and subsequently Vice President. He was in one of the hot seats after 9/11, so he would have been close to it anyway. This seems to show that he directed it.”
    “Who else has seen this?” I ’d said. “This would be dynamite politically if this became public knowledge.”
    “No one, but they, whoever they are, will be tracing me. It will not be simple for them to do so, but if this is the CIA they have some of the best people possible so it will only be a matter of time.”
    “God, Adrian, do you never learn? The shit could really hit the fan with this!  They will make the hacking a major offence to which a long prison sentence is attached. When did you do this?”
    “Last night, I haven't slept since. I keep going over and over it in my mind, trying to think what to do next.”
    “How long do you think it will take for them to trace you?”
    “If they are lucky, 2 or 3 days, but I have been totally off air since so it will take them some time.”
    “I need a drink, do you want a Scotch?” I ’d said getting up and retrieving a bottle from the cupboard in the kitchen.
    “No thanks.”
    “I am not sure what you should do. It seems to me that if you admit it and hand yourself in you will