Hertogs shrugs. ‘Sorry, nothing I can do. You need to speak to whoever the trial was done for. Which company, out of interest?’

‘Listen,’ Vermeer says, leaning forward, ‘we’re investigating a very serious matter. We would really appreciate your help.’

‘Hands tied. I’m sure you know that. So unless you have a warrant …’ He shrugs.

Vermeer starts to help him understand the situation, but I can tell Hertogs is going to be stubborn. I make going-to-find-the-toilet motions and head out, leaving Vermeer to it. In the outer office I notice the I’m-going-to-quit guy is back at his screen. Maybe he’s just waiting for us to finish with his boss. But really, if you’re going to quit, you just walk in and do it regardless. He looks up when I approach.

‘Can I have a word? Outside.’

The office stares at us as we walk out, their minds spinning at all the sudden drama. Once we’re in the car park I tell him what I need.

‘Why would I do that? I’d get fired for starters.’

‘I thought you were going to quit?’

‘Well … I –’

‘Was this what you wanted to do, with your life I mean? Work for a prick at some menial tasks just so he can afford that?’ I point to the Maserati.

He looks affronted at my question, but then lowers his eyes and shakes his head. ‘No, not really …’

‘So I think you should quit, and do what it is you want. You’ve only got one life, live it. And, just as a parting gesture, a little fuck-you to Mr Hertogs, you could get me those names.’

He stares at me for a few seconds, then his face slowly breaks into a grin.

Once it’s done I walk in on Vermeer and tell her she’s wasting her time. She glares at me but is smart enough to read between the lines. As we’re leaving I see the young man walk into his boss’s office. I feel a slight tinge of guilt. So I leave out the part about me egging the man on to quit his job when I tell her what I’ve got. We sit in the car and stare at the list: twelve volunteers, some of whom, according to Stephanie, would have died.

From the looks of it two men share the same surname, presumably brothers. As Vermeer drives I get Jansen on the phone and dictate the names to him, asking for background on all of them. I’m just finishing when we pull into the AMC car park where I’d accosted Stephanie. It takes us over twenty minutes to track down the records office, buried deep in a basement corridor which seems to stretch out forever. If it wasn’t for the detailed instructions the strangely jovial man at the front desk had given us I don’t think we’d have made it.