‘Well, look. Who would we get?’ He nodded in the direction of two or three other bodies at the far end of the office. ‘Wouldn’t you rather carry on as we are for now?’

‘As long as you think we can cope.’

Gary grinned at her and looked at the long legs, encased in their black-patterned tights, the short skirt, the tight black sweater and the shiny dark brown hair. ‘Oh, I think I can cope.’

Sarah grinned back. ‘Oh, you wish Mr Flynn! You wish!’

Gary sighed. ‘Yes, well, it’s not for want of trying. Anyway, as long as you keep fending me off at least our working relationship isn’t compromised. Though why that should be an advantage I can’t think.’

Sarah slipped down off the desk and moved across to the water machine. He watched her sinuous walk with a stab of pleasure.

‘So what’s next?’

‘Mmm?’ He was miles away. On some beach. Lying next to her.

‘I said, what’s next?’

‘Right. Yes. Strategy. That’s what’s next. Strategy. We need to find out where the money’s coming from and when and how it’s leaving the country. And to do that we need some sort of strategy.’

‘Meaning?’

Gary drained his cup. ‘Meaning we have to see rather a lot of each other over the next few days.’

Sarah screwed up her face. ‘Oh, lucky me.’

‘Do you want this bath or not?’

Erica Wilson was sitting on the edge of the tub. She was swathed in a white towel, her long brown hair combed back from her face.

‘If you like.’ Tiger put his head round the bathroom door. ‘I remember when we used to share them.’

‘Oh don’t start that. You can share them with me now if you want except that you’re always too busy doing something else.’ She wiped a trickle of water from her forehead with the edge of the towel.

Tiger eyed her up proprietorially. She played tennis three times a week in between running the shop, and the regular exercise kept her in good trim.

‘You look very tantalizing sitting there,’ Tiger said as he pulled his shirt over his head.

‘Bet you say that to all the girls.’

‘Nope. Just the one.’ He slipped off the rest of his clothes and slid into the tub.

‘Well, you’re not in such bad shape yourself, Mr Wilson.’ She surveyed him over the rim of the bath. ‘You’ve still got all your hair, not too much grey, and your body’s in a tolerable state. Maybe a pound or two more than usual after a long, hard winter, but not bad for a man of advanced years.’

‘Do you mind! I’m a bit sensitive about my advancing years at the moment.’

‘Why’s that? Feeling your age?’

Tiger frowned. ‘A bit.’

‘Aches and pains?’

‘No. Just…in other ways.’