It seemed impossible that anything could be hotter, but as they reached the centre of the kitchen Marc felt as if the sun had crash-landed on his head. It seemed impossible to breathe, let alone work in such heat, but dozens of kitchen staff carted ingredients, chopped, boiled, seared and dragged heavy trays out of ovens.

Marc and Henderson caught a few odd glances, but nobody had time to stop and ask questions. When the waiters passed through the swinging doors leading into the restaurant they were able to glimpse a room filled with black uniforms. At the far end, someone was making a speech to a chorus of drunken laughter.

‘It’s good if they’re pissed,’ Henderson said, smiling as he stepped out of the kitchen into a narrow corridor with great clumps of mildew growing on the walls. ‘Remember, Marc: confidence is key. Always look like you know where you’re going, even if you haven’t got a clue.’

Marc was scared and felt slightly woozy, but at least the corridor was merely stifling, rather than unbearable. They walked twenty metres until they came to a wooden staircase that went down to the hotel basement. A door at the bottom led them into a room containing two giant washing machines. Beyond the machines a woman worked flat out, stretching white hotel sheets over a steam-press, then taking off the flattened sheets and folding them into neat squares.

She stared oddly at Marc and Henderson. Clearly she didn’t get many visitors.

‘Hello,’ Henderson said. ‘We just started work here. I’m supposed to unblock a toilet for someone called Mannstein.’

The woman raised a single eyebrow. ‘How the hell does that bring you down here?’

‘I just came along the corridor.’

She looked at Marc. ‘And you’ve brought your son to work?’

‘Shoe-shine,’ Marc said.

‘We’ve never had that before,’ the woman said. ‘Night porter does the shoes when reception is quiet.’

‘They wanted him special,’ Henderson said. ‘All those Germans need their boots cleaned.’

‘Germans,’ the woman said, as she spat on a sheet before folding it. ‘I’ve been having a nice time these last weeks with Paris so quiet. Now they’re turning everything upside down. Threw out all our guests, including residents who’ve lived here for years, then went down to the cellar and dragged up all the best wines and champagne. You can bet they won’t be paying their bills and if I don’t see my wages I’m out of here.’

‘That’s the breaks, I guess,’ Henderson said uncertainly as he turned towards the door. ‘You wouldn’t know how I can find out what room Mannstein’s in would you? I don’t want to go back upstairs and make myself look stupid.’

The woman tutted with contempt, but pointed towards a telephone on the wall. ‘Dial zero, zero for the front desk. They’ll give you his room number.’