She can never know me for real, he thought. I hardly know myself. The same went for all of the women he met through dating sites. Most were looking for the same as him—a bit of companionship for an evening, and then no-ties sex. Some sought a little more, but they quickly understood where his boundaries lay. It was a superficial life, a cheap way of meeting partners for sex, but he justified it to himself because it went both ways. The women he met were strong and confident, seeking their own way through life just like him.

He finished his wine and went to pour another glass. Distant though he was from the world of stable relationships, Bone still really liked sex, and he was looking forward to this evening. Even in their brief text exchanges he and Jayne had hit it off, and he was anticipating a fun, adventurous night.

Glass filled, he walked back to the computer and scanned the search results. Usually the search brought a series of old articles about Longford, and perhaps an occasional photo or two of the wide, still reservoir, its surface calm, its secrets long-forgotten by almost anyone.

Today, there was a hit.

“Old Town Revealed as Earth Dam Ruptures”, the headline read. There was one photograph, grainy and from a distance as if taken with a poor camera phone. It showed a uniform grey landscape he did not recognise, surrounded by a border of wooded hillsides he knew only too well.

“Holy fuck,” he muttered, and the wine glass slipped through his fingers. It smashed as it hit the wooden floor, splashing wine across his bare feet and jeans. He didn’t notice. His mind was in the past, his perception drawn in and afraid, and the sense of threat that had accompanied him all through his life became even more heightened.

His phone pinged as a text came through. It was from Jayne, a promise about what she was going to do to him. He sent her a short apologetic response, then dialled another number.

“Jordan,” the voice said, curt and cold.

“I need the Longford job,” he said.

She fell silent for a while, and he imagined the security procedures she was initiating—phone tracing, call recording, voice analysis. He didn’t care because he had nothing to hide. Or not much, at least, and the things he did hide were deep, deep down.

“Who the fuck is this?”

“Bone.”

“How did you get my number, Bone?”

He smiled as he scanned more reports on the computer. “Really?”

“I’m supposed to call you if you’re needed.”

“Jordan, you think I’ve worked for you this long without wanting to know a little more about you than your name?”

More silence.

“I’m at home,” Bone said. “I’ll put you on camera phone if you want, just to make sure.”

“No need,” she said. “I can see where you are.”