María jammed the water bottle between her thighs and unscrewed the cap. The car was hot, so the water was already warm. She was already regretting not having gone to a more reputable car-hire firm. She could have gone for a top-class 4×4, or even a basic car that had aircon, as Agla was covering everything, but somehow she had fallen back on her habit of keeping costs to a minimum, and found a small, cheap company. The car demonstrated why the rental was so low.

She had driven round and round the vast warehouse, which seemed as big as a sports stadium, with a goods-in entrance on one side and a goods-out exit on the other. She had seen a few trucks disappear into the front of the building and reappear at the far end, so there had to be something going on, even though there were only eight cars in the staff car park, each one with a couple of empty spaces around it, as if the owners wanted to make the most of having more than enough room.

Sitting in the car, María sent Agla a short email to say that the metal storage unit existed, and that it was a large building emblazoned with the Meteorite Metals logo, and not just the brass-plate company Agla had suggested. Then she drove into the empty car park marked VISITORS and pulled up, the hand brake squealing in protest as she yanked it hard to be sure the car wouldn’t roll away.

When she got out, she found that the temperature was the same outside as it had been in the car, but now she could feel her skin burning in the sun’s glare. She had never been able to tolerate too much sunshine, unlike Maggi, who would happily spend days outside in the garden, becoming nicely tanned. She just burned red in the sun. She shook off thoughts of Maggi’s naked body, and pushed open the door marked OFFICE, coughing deliberately.

‘Hello, darling,’ the receptionist said in an amiable, almost musical voice. ‘What can I do for you?’

She had a stately hairdo piled on top of her head, and for a moment María wanted to ask whether it was a wig or had the woman put a lot of effort into dyeing and curling real hair. Instead María introduced herself and showed her press card.

The friendly smile instantly became a suspicious scowl.

‘I’ll call the manager,’ the woman said, picking up the phone and putting it to her ear without taking her eyes off María. She waited for a moment, then told the person on the other end of the line to send Donald down. ‘There’s a journalist here at reception,’ she said, although her tone of voice and the expression on her face suggested she was announcing that there was a rat down here with her.