I try again, but no matter how many times I repeat the search, the result is the same. Whomever the number belongs to is not registered to the electoral roll.

Taking a swig of water, I try the second number, typing more slowly this time. My finger hovers above the enter button for a second, and when I press it I close my eyes, bracing myself for further disappointment.

When I open my eyes again, I blink. There on the screen is a name: James McCann. The signatory from the company’s records.

Without pausing, I type into Google. It takes several clicks to find the correct James McCann, Partner at McCann Legal and Partners, a law firm just off Queen Square in London.

Excitement rippling over me, I keep going, copying and pasting the name of the business, and trawling through endless web pages.

For a legal firm, there is very little on file about what it does. Finally, though, a picture catches my eye. Unlike the other stock headshots, this one is of McCann in a party setting, in the archive section of a newspaper. The image is of three people standing side by side, each holding a glass of champagne.

The caption under the faces reads: Philanthropists Irena Vasiliev and Clive Witherall with lawyer James McCann.

Typing the words Irena Vasiliev into Google, the list of articles is endless. Irena Vasiliev wanted by Interpol for a number of crimes related to money laundering and financial terrorism, and for assisting a dictator.

The next, extracted from a piece entitled London: The Money-Laundering Capital of the World, read:

Vasiliev, a 46-year-old Russian who enjoys the protection of her government and is also wanted for supporting violent regimes in Africa, specialises in helping extraction and energy industries, oil and gas industries launder their money. One inside source said, ‘British banks are so full of corrupt money that to take it out could cause another financial crash.’

Lighting another cigarette, I flick back to my emails. Hovering for a moment over the out-of-office button, instead I pressed the hide button and continue to scroll through the results, unaware of the day outside fading to night.

Chapter 73

Gabriela

Tom was not expecting her back until the Monday afternoon. This freed her up to have lunch with Madeleine, at last, before returning to the house. She was as excited and brimming with nerves as if it was a first date, also humming with anticipation for what she was about to do.

As she said goodbye to Ivan and Layla at the doorway to the hotel that morning, her heart beat so fast that she felt her chest might explode. At almost six months old, it was almost impossible to leave her daughter, her resistance to her going getting stronger each time she left. Gabriela’s arms tensed around her daughter and she drank in her smell before handing her back to her father with reluctant hands.