But for a moment he says nothing. He seems to be wondering if he can really trust her. She wants to know who he is and what he does and whether he has a wife or a girlfriend, and above all what his grudge is.

‘OK, here’s the deal. I give you – not now – some paperwork which you show to the editor. It will just be a starter of what I can provide. Then your editor and I speak on the phone at a time I have set. I’m not going over your head, it’s just that I need his absolute assurance. I could go straight to the FT or the Journal, but that’s not the way I want to do this.’

‘How did you find me? Do you mind me asking?’

‘Just an alert: anything to do with Tubal’s. Dead simple. I liked your blog, by the way.’

‘Oh, thanks.’

‘No sweat.’

His narrow face is pale and his flat voice is more estuary than she first thought.

‘Yeah, I liked it.’

‘But what’s in it for you?’

‘Does it matter? You don’t need to know. Believe me, Melissa, it’s better you don’t. All you need is rock-solid info, which I can provide, OK?’

But she does need to know. He’s proposing to bring down a famous bank. Why? What’s his angle? She needs to speak to Mr Tredizzick to get advice. She tries to keep calm, but she’s completely out of her depth. Her thighs look fat and rustic and her skirt, which is becoming alarmingly creased, rides up. Her skirt is rising as her confidence is falling.

‘Go and talk to your editor. Text me to say he will talk or he won’t and we’ll fix a time. But wait until you receive the new number that I will text you. I will call him to get the assurances I need and then I will send you the information to get you started.’

‘Look, I’m new to this. I don’t want you to think that I’m some investigative journo.’

‘I know. But I also researched your editor. He’s no mug. He got burnt in the Maxwell business, but he knows the game. This is a big opportunity for him.’

‘He said his antennae were buzzing.’

‘That’s good news. OK, so tell your editor that I will provide some transaction printouts that you can then chase up. My suggestion – but I’m not a journo either – is that you innocently bring up the bank’s problems in your blog in relation to the grant business. There will be a firestorm after that – your editor will make sure of that, and the good old Globe and Mail, founded 1862 by Sir Josaiah Twelvetrees, will be ahead of the game. You will have the inside story. Don’t worry, your editor will understand what this means.’

‘And me?’