“Like EMI turning down the Beatles,” puts in Janice helpfully. “Brent would be EMI.”

“No, he’d be the drummer,” says Mum. “The other drummer.”

“Ringo Starr?” says Janice, looking baffled.

“No, love, the other drummer. Pete Whatsit—”

“Fascinating stuff, Jane,” Tarkie interrupts briskly. “But if we could return to the business in hand…?” He fixes Mum with a look which, for Tarkie, is almost stern, and to my astonishment she shuts up.

“There’s one arcane point of law that the lawyers are still looking into,” Tarkie continues. “But, meanwhile, our dilemma is this: Do we contact Corey before we have any legal backing, or do we wait?”

“What will we say if we contact him?” says Mum.

“We’ll pressure him,” says Tarkie. “Bring influences to bear, introduce the element of threat, perhaps.”

“Threat?” echoes Janice in alarm.

“I have a client who’d help,” volunteers Danny. “She’s Russian. Spends a ton every year. Believe me, if you want any threatening done, her husband’s the one.”

“Are you talking about the Russian Mafia?” Dad stares at him in horror.

“Of course I’m not talking about it.” Danny mimes a zip pull across his mouth. “First rule of the Mafia: You don’t talk about the Mafia.”

“That’s Fight Club,” objects Suze.

“Fight Club and the Mafia.” Danny shrugs. “And my haute couture show in Qatar.”

“I never knew you had a haute couture show in Qatar!” I say avidly.

“I know.” Danny gives me an enigmatic eyebrow raise. “That’s because I can’t talk about it.”

Since when did he have secret haute couture shows in Qatar he didn’t tell me about? I want to ask him more, only it’s not exactly the time.

“We can’t get involved with the Mafia!” Janice looks like she might hyperventilate. “Graham, you never mentioned the Mafia!”

“Obviously we’re not going to involve the Mafia,” says Dad impatiently.

“I don’t think threatening Corey is the way forward, anyway,” I put in. “People like that, the more you try to threaten them, the more aggressive they get. We need to coax him. Persuade him. Like that story about the man in his cloak—the wind can’t blow it off him but the sun makes him take it off of his own accord. Remember that story you used to read me, Mum?” I turn to her. “With the lovely illustrations?”

I’m trying to get Mum onside, but she looks a bit perturbed. “Becky love, I’m not sure picture books are the best reference right now.”

“Why not? Persuading is definitely the way to go.” I look around the table. “Forget the lawyers, forget the Mafia—he won’t take any notice of them, anyway.”

“But, darling, how on earth can we persuade him?” says Dad gently.

“Well, actually, I have an idea,” I confess.

“What idea?” demands Suze at once.

“It’s a bit complicated,” I admit. “We’ll need to use all our forces for it. We’ll need to go back to Las Vegas and hire some rooms. And we’ll need to plan it really carefully. We’ll need to trap him. Con him. We want Elinor for this too,” I add. “We’ll have to talk her into it.”