Pushing my way through the tide of people coming out, I selected the camera on my phone and got ready to snatch a picture. Looking out for Ben to come towards me in the surge of punters heading for the front exit. Imagining the moment, surely only a few seconds away now, when we would be face-to-face again. I would grab him with one hand, snap a picture with the other. The look on his face would be priceless. And then it would be my turn to post a picture on Facebook – right after I’d sent it to the police, my solicitor and his wife.

‘Everybody out,’ the bouncers were saying loudly and without much enthusiasm, waving people towards the front door.

On the main gambling floor, two side fire exits had opened up onto the car park, cold midnight air rolling in. Shit. I’d assumed everyone would go out of the front door. Wincing against the harsh whine of the fire alarm and taking their drinks with them, tonight’s gamblers shuffled towards the fire exits as I moved to stand in the small shadows that remained by the blackjack tables. My eyes were fixed on the exit to the executive lounge. A couple of middle-aged dark-haired men emerged through the doors, pulling on leather jackets. They spoke loudly to each other over the wail of the alarm. A Slavic language I didn’t recognise, maybe Russian. One gave a cigarette to the other, put another cigarette in his own mouth, and they headed for the fire exit.

I waited by the door of the executive lounge, ready to snap a picture of Ben when he came through. The blue-eyed bouncer reappeared, looking at me like I wasn’t right in the head. He took me firmly by the elbow, walking me out of the fire exit and into the car park.

‘Everybody out, sir,’ he said loudly above the noise of the fire alarm.

The cold October air was like a slap in the face after the casino’s warmth. It was obvious that I’d not been quick enough: Ben must have gone out through one of the side exits before I’d got back through the crowd of people near the front desk.

There must have been a couple of hundred people in the car park, lit up in the glare of security lights, and Ben was somewhere among them. I started walking slowly through the assembled group, scanning left and right, phone at the ready to take a picture. He was here somewhere. I had worked my way from one side of the group to the other and was about to work my way in deeper when I saw the blue-eyed bouncer staring at me, brows knitted into a deep frown. By his side, the supervisor from the front desk was talking to him, close in his ear, pointing at me. I turned away and pushed into the crowd again.