“I think so. Look for personnel dossiers, see if they compare with what’s in here.” Now that she was faced with the answer she’d been desperately searching for, Lindsay was almost superstitiously reluctant to start checking the individual files of the men on Lauren’s list. Instead, she typed in a search request for Baz’s file. Just for comparison purposes, she told herself.

The file listed Baz’s title—Editorial Director (Fiction)—her work station number—026—her salary, date of birth, home address and telephone number, the names and job titles of staff she was responsible for, her starting date with the company and details of her pension fund contributions. Unable to resist, Lindsay called up Danny King’s file. Publisher, work station 101, plus all the other details. What looked like an extremely expensive address in Holland Park. Plus a very healthy and generous pension. Now she had an idea what a file should look like, she typed in the first name on Lauren’s list.

Paddy Brown was allegedly the Foreign Rights Acquisition Director at work station 201. He earned three times what Baz was paid, though he lived in what sounded like a block of flats in Bethnal Green. Like Danny, his pension arrangements looked well cushioned. The picture was similar for Bill Candy, the Translation Rights Director (work station 202), Paul Edwards, the Senior Commissioning Director (work station 203), Brian Hedges, the Promotions Controller (work station 204) and the other names on the list.

“It’s just like Penny laid out for us,” Lindsay said. “Look, he’s even put the equivalent of an extra floor on the building.” Sophie stood up and looked over Lindsay’s shoulder. “That’s what she meant with that cryptic note about the tenth floor of a nine-story building. All the ground-floor staff have work stations beginning with zero, and everybody on the first floor begins with one. But all the shady staff’s work stations begin with a two. That way, if there was ever a snap raid, all Danny King would have to say is that those members of staff work from home, or they have a roving commission or whatever.”

Sophie slapped a pair of files on the desk. “Compare these. Legitimate employee files have copies of all the correspondence from when they applied for a job and were interviewed and had their references called in. Ghost personnel just have a letter of appointment. Bit of a giveaway, isn’t it?”

Although she was eager for evidence to support her case, Lindsay was determined not to jump to conclusions again. “I don’t know . . .” she said. “Couldn’t he just say he head-hunted them?”

“I suppose so. That would save him having to forge letters and references. So does any of this actually prove anything?” Sophie asked.