‘Let’s take a look at you,’ she said, examining his back. ‘You’re fine,’ she added, handing him his singlet and helping him into it. It stung like hell, but he liked that. He would feel the pain for the next few days, every time he dressed, took a shower or leaned back in a chair, and that was the way he wanted it. This reminder was something he needed; the reminder that he was human. It was the same as the Roman emperors who had a slave walking behind them, whispering ‘remember you are mortal, remember you are mortal’.

‘I’ll make a transfer to your account,’ he said as he buttoned his shirt.

She stepped closer and helped him with the top button and knotted his tie for him.

‘Not too much,’ she said. ‘You always pay me too much.’

‘I’m grateful,’ he said.

‘You’re still in a state when you make the transfer, so you make it too much.’

‘It’s no more than you deserve,’ he said, kissing her cheek.

‘Now you be a good little worm and do as you’re told.’ She smiled and winked as she teased him. ‘Otherwise you’ll feel it…’

He gave her an exaggerated bow.

‘Yes, madame!’

They understood each other instinctively. She knew precisely when it was safe to inject a little humour into the game they played, and when things had to be kept serious as it was crucial to not lose the momentum.

‘Call me whenever you want,’ she said, holding the front door open for him.

He blew her a kiss on his way down the steps, and as was so often the case, he was astonished at the change he’d undergone since he had turned up here a couple of hours ago. He had walked in tense with stress and with his mind in overdrive, but now he was relaxed and his thoughts had clarified, as if his soul had been cleansed.

He started his car and turned up the heater. It wasn’t particularly cold, but a whipping always left him with a chill that lasted a few hours. His phone showed one missed call and two text messages, all from the same number. He opened the first message. It was a long one, from an investigative journalist called María. He sighed. He knew who María was: a former investigator at the special prosecutor’s office who had fallen badly out of favour and who now ran her own online news outlet, an effort driven forwards more by determination than ability. She was the type who saw conspiracy everywhere she looked and who could make the most innocent thing look suspicious. The message was a series of questions concerning himself and Agla, and any business connections they might have.

That was something he could answer easily. Right now there were none. They had ended their joint business affairs some years before and since then had taken care to avoid each other.