There were two things in Priest & Co.’s favour: the first was that the magazine’s insurers were funding the trial, albeit with considerable reluctance, and the second was that Alexia had openly taken the moral high ground and decided to only sue the magazine itself and not Tomas Jansen, its owner, personally, which would have complicated matters. Jansen might have even needed separate representation.

But even with a third party paying the bills – for now – there was considerable risk. Insurers would always find a reason not to pay, or only partially pay out, if they backed the wrong horse. For The Real Byte and Priest & Co., the stakes were about as high as they could get.

She tried ringing Charlie one more time, this time leaving a message. She hoped it made it clear she was anxious to hear from him without completely betraying the panic that had now gripped her.

Damn, damn, damn!

She glanced back to court thirteen but decided it would be best not to report back to Okoro until such time as she had some positive news. As she did, she saw an older gentleman lope across the lobby looking rather harassed. This, she surmised, must be Dominique Elias, Alexia’s husband. His witness statement had struck her as being rather curt. He loved his wife and regarded her as the very personification of integrity and professionalism and of course he would have known if she had received bribes of that level. All very businesslike and matter-of-fact.

Her mind had wandered, and it took a few seconds to register the voice in her ear.

‘Miss Someday? Hello?’

Georgie spun around and found her personal space had been filled by a young woman with long, blonde hair which looked bleached, beaming at her. She was tucked inside a black coat and was clutching an iPad. She was pretty. With such a sparkling smile, she might even be called striking were it not for a certain air of detachment visible through her eyes. Georgie groaned inwardly.

‘Yes?’ she asked.

‘Elinor Fox – independent. You’re with Priest & Co., aren’t you? Could I ask you about the trial?’

‘You mean you’re independent or you’re from the Independent?’ replied Georgie, folding her arms.

The dazzling smile faltered slightly and Georgie rejoiced in its retreat. ‘The former.’

‘Sorry, I can’t talk to journalists.’

Fox continued, undeterred, ‘How are your clients bearing up?’