She stared at me, cocked her head on one side and narrowed her eye.

‘Do you want to come and work for me at HiberTech?’

This was unexpected, and I asked in what capacity.

‘General duties,’ she said. ‘You seem like a bright kid and it would be good to have you around. Standard WinterPay Level III, but a five-thousand-euro handshake, unlimited pudding and a weekly Cadbury’s Fruit & Nut allocation. HiberTech Security have their own residential block inside the facility; very nice – faces the quad. The rooms are twice as big as these and you have your own redeployed valet. There’s real coffee and sushi on Fridays. We don’t like to slum it. Just resign when you see the Chief; I can have the paperwork completed in a jiffy – so long as you’re not working for RealSleep or any of their affiliates?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘Is there anything embarrassing we might find in a background check? And we will do one, so no holding back.’

‘I did six weeks’ community service for Incitement to Deprive,’ I said. ‘Sleepy phone tennis that went wrong.’

‘Small beer, Charlie.’

‘ . . . and bit off Gary Findlay’s ear.’

‘Biting off ears and stuff totally counts in your favour at HiberTech. You’ll take the job?’

I thought about Birgitta and her need for food.

‘Is the five grand in cash?’

‘Yes, if you want it, sure.’

‘I’m kind of settled here in the Siddons. Can I think about it?’

‘Sure,’ she said, surprised, I think, that I didn’t leap at the offer, ‘but don’t shilly-shally. There are others in the frame.’

She looked at her watch, then at me again.

‘That’s me done here,’ she said. ‘Agent Hooke was covering for me last night, and I need to unravel any problems he’s stirred up. His anger management issues actually have their own anger management issues.’

I waited for ten minutes after she’d left, then washed and dressed and made some sandwiches of whatever was left in the picnic basket. Taramasalata and toothpaste weren’t my first choice for a snack, but Birgitta wouldn’t complain and it was food, first and foremost.

I found Birgitta stuck fast in Rigor torpis when I let myself into her room. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, mid-sketch, pen poised.