The rivalry between Juniper and Rhapso was notorious. After a long-running row over trademarks, Rhapso had poached Juniper’s team of senior buyers two years earlier. Two weeks later, Rhapso’s brand director had received an offer he couldn’t refuse. Within days, a series of articles about Bentley’s tax arrangements had appeared, sparking protests outside Juniper’s flagship Oxford Circus branch.

The Ethiopia article was the final straw, with Bentley threatening to personally break the legs of everyone involved, ‘a task I usually fucking outsource, to be honest. But for you, darling, I’ll make an exception.’

Casey had been followed around by private detectives for three months after the Ethiopia article appeared.

‘No fucking way,’ said Bentley now. ‘Now fuck off.’

‘Fine.’ Casey stretched, arms over her head. ‘I’ll be off to Vietnam then, if I’ve got time on my hands. I hear it’s delightful at this time of year.’

Juniper’s operations had been shunted across to Vietnam shortly after the Ethiopian factory closed down. Chasing the cheap needle, they called it. Factories across the world bidding against each other to offer the lowest rates.

Bentley hesitated, and Casey raised an eyebrow, making it almost a joke. Bentley gestured, ordering his team of people to back off. They fell away at once.

‘What’s your plan for Rhapso?’ he spoke quietly.

‘It’s complicated,’ said Casey, ‘but I’ve got a tip about one of their factories in Bangladesh, and I want to check it out.’

‘What do you need from me?’

Casey’s eyes met Ed’s over Bentley’s shoulder. He narrowed his eyes at her.

‘He’s probably not mentioned it, but I’ve worked with Ed Fitzgerald on a story before. And I need his help on this.’

‘Ed?’ Bentley’s face opened into a laugh. ‘Fuck’s sake. He’s kept that very quiet.’

He gestured Ed over. Very unwillingly, Ed came across. Behind him, the Oscar-nominated actress and the supermodel were hugging ostentatiously for the cameras.

‘I understand that you’ve been working with Miss Benedict.’ Bentley raised an eyebrow.

‘A long time ago,’ Ed protested. ‘Just after I left the Marines.’

‘You dark fucking horse.’ There was affection in Bentley’s words.

‘I should have told you.’

‘Damn right.’ But Bentley was laughing. He turned back to Casey. ‘What have you got on those twats at Rhapso?’

‘That’s confidential.’ Casey met his eye.

‘Who was the fucking source for the Ethiopia story?’

The silence stretched out in the air-kissing chaos of the room.

‘Ed?’ Bentley turned to him.

‘I don’t know.’

Bentley’s personal assistant was trying to get his attention, waving two phones. Bentley looked around, remembering the crowds, the actress, the supermodel.

Bentley laughed. ‘Fine,’ he said. ‘Give them a few shitty days. Ed, you’re off to Bangladesh. See you back in Fontvieille.’