Alan39, I would be very interested. Please send it to me as soon as you can. And I can guarantee your anonymity. Melissa

She will protect her sources to the death. She waits, staring at the screen, but nothing comes through. Her mother rings.

‘Hello, lovely. Auntie Florence met a woman who says that you are a blogger. What is that? Is it one of those people who writes on the netweb?’

‘Oh, it’s just a sort of column which gets posted on the internet so everyone can read it.’

‘That’s marvellous. Why didn’t you tell us?’

‘Mum, I’m freelance now.’

She can almost hear her mother’s thoughts in the silence.

‘Does it mean you don’t have a proper salary?’

‘From the end of the month I get paid per piece I write. But the editor likes my blogs and he’s printing them.’

‘What a shame.’

‘It’s the way journalism is going, Mum. Everyone is freelance.’

‘Don’t worry, darling, there’s always a home for you with us.’

‘Thanks, Mum. It’s not all doom and gloom.’

‘Will you tell Dad?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll tell him this evening.’

‘All right, my lovely.’

She feels tears in her eyes. They were so proud of her when she went to university, and even more proud when she got a job on the famous Globe and Mail, and now they have discovered that she, like everybody else, is subject to disappointment and setbacks.

And then, into her inbox comes a long email from Alan39. Her source. Her source. She wants to tell someone she has her first SOURCE!

‘Mr Tredizzick, Mr Tredizzick, I have to see you.’

‘Come to my office in five minutes.’

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Julian likes the bank best on holidays. It is deathly quiet today; his ancestors gaze down on him benignly or vacantly, the banking hall is empty, the air is still, the tellers are all at home or at the sports and social club in south London and only the duty security is here. Until just after the war, one of the directors always slept overnight at the bank. This was a precaution, introduced after the River Plate bubble of 1849, when the original building was burned down by angry investors demanding their money. The PR people have declared that this was the earliest example of twenty-four-hour banking. For years the bank has traded on its rich history, making a connection between longevity and integrity.

He drives himself in Kim’s Mini up to the anonymous archway off Bread Street, presses his remote and enters. Security, in the form of a very plump young woman he hasn’t seen before, is waiting for him. She wears the semi-military uniform that has evolved from the days when the doormen were batmen to the directors in two world wars.

‘Morning, sir.’

‘Hello, are you new?’

‘Yes, sir. I am Jason Newell’s partner, Jade.’