I nod. I agree. Under the right circumstances, in the right company, Malo can be deeply impressive. It was one of the first things that H noticed about him, which is no surprise because he’s got the same knack of mastering a complex brief and then turning it to his own advantage. In the cocaine business, this talent made him rich. Malo appears to be selling something very different, but the principle’s exactly the same.

‘You went running in Holland Park?’

‘Yes.’

‘From my apartment?’

‘Yes. And you’re right, I used the shower when I got back.’

‘You’re very welcome,’ I say lightly. ‘And Malo?’

‘He asked me about runners. Not just footwear but lightweight kit, on-board nutrition, warming-up routines, the whole shtick. I thought he was kidding to begin with, but he was on the internet Friday night, getting himself sorted. You’ll see the stuff when you get home. I’m not sure I’d have chosen pink runners but that boy’s definitely his own man, and in my line of business there’s no better place to start. No one without self-belief ever sold anything.’

‘Even when it comes to pink runners?’

‘Especially when it comes to pink runners.’

This, need I say it, is very good news indeed. When I ask rather delicately whether he’s thinking of recruiting Malo to the cause, he rolls over and laughs.

‘You mean agreeing a deal? Paying him?’

‘I guess so.’

‘Then the answer has to be yes. I’ll be offering him a month’s trial on a daily rate. If it all works out, we’ll agree a basic wage and a commission scale. In the meantime, I’ll be holding him to his word.’

‘About what?’

‘Getting fit.’ He pauses a moment, and his gaze strays towards the sea again. ‘That letter you found was pretty amazing,’ he says quietly. ‘You mind if I photocopy it?’

‘Why would you want to do that?’

‘Because it would make a great selling tool.’

‘Selling tool?’

‘Yes, and you know why? Because it makes death so vivid, so real. The way the guy wrote it, anyone can imagine themselves into that prison cell. And that’s where we are now, all of us, thanks to Trump, and Putin, and far too many nukes, and global warming, and Australia on fire, and all the rest of the pantomime. Your boy got that at once. Doomsday? He’s totally up to speed. All he needs to do now …’ That same slow smile again. ‘Is get rich.’

Sylvester is on his feet now. He’s knotted the towel around his waist and he’s reaching for his shorts.

‘That Beth woman,’ he says. ‘How well do you know her?’

‘Barely at all.’

‘She’s a fruitcake.’ He’s wriggling into his shorts. ‘Take it from me.’

TWENTY