They stepped into a small office with a modern desk and the usual array of electronic equipment. A buttoned damask Victorian chaise longue ran along one wall, beneath a framed photograph of Danny with a jeroboam of champagne surrounded by his staff under a banner that announced “Monarch’s Ten Year Reign.” This was clearly a reception area that doubled as his secretary’s office. A second door led off it at right angles to the corridor. Lindsay opened it to reveal another room that ran the full depth of the mews.

One end of the room was arranged as a meeting space, with four gray leather sofas surrounding a glass and polished-granite coffee table. At the other end, two desks sat in an L-shape. The one facing out into the room was empty. The other held a computer. Between them was a black steel shelving unit that contained TV, video and a Bang and Olufson stereo that had probably cost as much as the average family car. A run of low-level black filing cabinets occupied the back wall below the window.

“Toss you for it,” Lindsay said, fishing a coin out of the pocket of her baggies. “Call?”

Sophie groaned. “Whatever I say, I just know I’m going to end up with the filing cabinets. Heads.”

Lindsay tossed the coin, caught it, slapped it on to the back of her left hand and revealed it with a flourish. “Tails it is. I’ll take the computer, you take the filing cabinets. Hang on, I’ll get you a copy of the names on Lauren’s list.” She disappeared back into the secretary’s office, where, rather than wait for the photocopier to warm up, she slipped the sheet of paper through the fax machine. Giving the original to Sophie, she laid the flimsy fax paper on the desk next to her and switched on the computer.

“These are locked,” Sophie said, rattling the first drawer fruitlessly.

“Try these,” Lindsay said calmly, pulling a bunch of small keys out of the desk drawer to her right. “Arrogant little shit deserves to be burgled.”

While Sophie searched for the correct key for the cabinet, Lindsay found her way around Monarch’s computer software. It wasn’t hard; they ran a network of PCs, an expanded version of systems Lindsay had worked on both in her university department and in small magazines where she’d contributed articles. It didn’t take her long to find the personnel directory, where a database held files on all their employees. “Yes,” she said softly, a sense of triumph surging through her.

“Got somewhere?” Sophie said, her voice muffled from kneeling on the floor with her head bent over a filing drawer.