Keller sat back in the dark booth, nestled between the two men. She felt exposed, still wearing her tennis whites. Still salty from the exertion. Still knowing that her stalker was out there somewhere, lurking.

‘I was thinking,’ she said, ‘there’s no way Basilia hired that guy to scare me, or to kill Maria. I saw his eyes in the crowd. Just for a second. He was staring at me like he hated every bone in my body. I couldn’t breathe when I saw that hatred burning. He’s the guy. It’s all about him and me. Nobody hired him. Not Basilia or anyone else. I just wish I knew why.’

Abbot swilled his beer in his glass and took a sideways glance at Foster to see if he could get a steer on his thoughts. But Foster sat impassive and inscrutable.

‘He’s not a player, either,’ Abbot said. ‘You smashed through him yesterday like he was made of paper. He’s no kind of athlete at all.’

‘Okay,’ Foster said, nursing his pint. ‘So we know who he’s not. But who the hell is he? And what does he want?’

‘Some of those Chinese betting syndicates can get pretty nasty,’ Abbot said. ‘Any of them offered you money to throw a game?’

Keller shook her head.

‘They wouldn’t approach Kirsten,’ Foster said.

Abbot raised an eyebrow.

‘You sure?’

Foster turned to Keller.

‘How much sponsorship did you earn last year?’

Keller looked at him for a moment.

‘I didn’t earn any,’ Foster said, ‘if it makes you feel better about disclosing.’

She smiled and said, ‘Eighteen million dollars, give or take.’

Abbot gave a low whistle.

‘Next round’s on you,’ he said.

‘There’s five point eight million prize money on top of that,’ Foster said. ‘Any gambling syndicate would know there’s no point trying to bribe Kirsten. It would cost too much.’

He rolled his pint glass between his fingers, feeling it scuff across a century of beer-soaked varnish on the table beneath.

‘Or they could murder my coach,’ Keller said, voicing Foster’s unspoken thought. ‘And send me half crazy in the meantime.’

Foster nodded.

‘It’s possible. But there are much easier ways of getting the job done. Whatever is happening, we need to react. Today.’

Suddenly Keller looked overwhelmed.

‘What are we supposed to do, if we don’t even know what this guy wants?’

Foster sighed.

‘You want my professional opinion?’

She said that she did.

‘Go home.’

The intimacy of the past few days made the brevity of his answer sting. For a moment Keller sat in stunned silence.

‘Because?’