Lindsay scowled and leaned past her lover to hit the ground floor button. When the doors opened, she marched across the foyer to a semi-circular desk marked “Reception. All visitors must sign in here.” The light from the lift provided enough illumination for a cursory search. Sophie leaned against the lift door, her finger on the “doors open” button, a smile in her eyes. Nothing worked better with Lindsay than a little needle, she thought to herself. Meanwhile, Lindsay pulled open the top drawer of the desk. She took out a clipboard with yesterday’s brief list of visitors and gave it a quick glance. She let out a low whistle. “Police were here yesterday,” she said. “Let’s hope there’s something left for us.” Dropping the clipboard, she rootled through the drawer. “Gotcha!” she said confidently, waving a stapled bundle of paper above her head. “Name, title, extension number, office.”

She walked slowly back to the lift, flicking through the pages. “Here we are. Tom Jack, general secretary, extension 8111, room 803. Safe to assume that’s on the top floor?” Lindsay said.

“Good thinking, Batman,” Sophie said, pressing the button marked eight. Moments later, they stepped out into blackness, which became impenetrable as soon as the lift door shut behind them. “I don’t suppose we remembered a torch?” Sophie asked.

Lindsay rummaged in her bag, finally finding a small pencil torch with a powerful, narrow beam. “Give the girl a coconut?”

She shone the light on the doors as they moved along the narrow corridor. 803 was the third door on the left. Lindsay tried the handle, and to her delight and surprise, the door swung open. The torch beam revealed a small, businesslike secretary’s office, complete with filing cabinets, word processor terminal and a low, three-seater sofa, presumably for Union Jack’s visitors. On the right-hand wall, there was another door. Lindsay headed purposefully in that direction, while Sophie made for the computer, which she switched on as Lindsay opened the door to the inner sanctum.

“Well, Union Jack didn’t stint himself,” Lindsay commented as she swung the torch beam across the room. The office was done out in top-of-the-range hi-tech black and chrome, a style that had already dated. Lindsay walked over to the two walls of windows that made it look as if the corner office extended indefinitely into the sodium-lit night streets. There was an array of buttons in the central pillar, and she pressed the one marked “close.” A sweep of vertical blinds whispered across the windows, shutting out the town below. She moved over to the desk and switched on a black halogen lamp. On a stand to one side was a PC, but Lindsay wasn’t interested in that. She knew her limitations. Besides, she could already hear the sound of Sophie’s fingers on the secretary’s word processor. When she’d had enough of playing with that machine, she could unravel the secrets of Union Jack’s PC.