As we entered the premises, I immediately noticed how different the atmosphere was from Artem’s strip club. Here, security cameras were attached at different vantage points, all extremely high-tech. Walls were spotless in brilliant white. The front desk was made of black marble. There was no glass or mirrors, just a huge expanse of black and white with low lighting at various angles. The floors had been stripped, sanded smooth and painted. The combination of natural wood surfaces and white walls lent the place a sense of elegance and sophistication.

‘Could you tell Mr Feldman the police are here?’ I said.

The girl on the front desk was coiffed and manicured, and she spoke in Polish through plump lips covered with frosted pink lip gloss. ‘Policja jest w recepcji,’ she said into her headset with a bored expression. Then, to us she said, ‘He’s in a meeting. I’ll show you into the bar. He’ll collect you from there.’ She led us across the lobby, down carpeted steps and through double doors into a vast room.

The space was divided up into bar and seating areas, a restaurant and a stage. The interior, with white walls and modern furniture, wasn’t warm or feminine but it was a high-end design with an extremely stylish finish. Men and women, ranging from spotty twenty-year-olds to tubby middle-aged men, stood around in huddles at the various tall bars, their pink faces glowing under the lights, dousing oysters with tabasco and vinegar and chucking them down their throats. Dotted at intervals on the shiny bar surface, bottles of champagne arrived in buckets of ice, and were drained and replaced. In a corner, a gaggle of girls sipped cocktails, already half cut and doubled-over in giggles. Towards the end of the main bar was a large silver-service restaurant which was almost fully occupied. With main courses at twenty-five quid, and the cheapest bottle of wine a bit more than that, Tomasz Feldman had clearly pitched his establishment at the upper end of the market.

The girl led us to a table. ‘Mr Feldman won’t be long,’ she said, and left us.

‘Jeez.’ Dan gestured to the Cristal champagne on the bar. ‘That stuff is big bucks. They’re getting through it like water.’

My eyes raked the room.

‘I’ve checked their licence and record.’ Dan kept his voice low. ‘Nothing about drugs. Seems Mr Feldman runs a clean business.’

‘That or he’s got systems in place. Are you telling me none of these people go to the loo to sniff a line of coke or pop a pill?’

Dan shrugged. ‘I’m sure they do. I’m simply saying that I can’t see any record of drugs being reported here, and . . . ’ He broke off as Tomasz came into view, striding towards us.

‘Detectives. Sorry to keep you waiting.’ Tomasz straightened his jacket and gave us a welcoming smile. ‘Please come with me.’

We followed him across the room.