The five minutes were up. Silence descended. Lot numbers began to spring up on Nick’s tablet, followed almost instantly by notifications of bids that appeared and disappeared with bewildering rapidity. Nick caught tantalizing glimpses of numbers accompanied by the repeated message subject to standard multiplier. The process was almost subliminal in its speed. He wasn’t sure what currency was being used in the bids. He had no idea what the multiplier was. He wondered if individuals were actually doing the bidding or if computers were handling the whole process algorithmically.

Then, on his tablet, the numbers suddenly faded to grey, overlaid by a message. Authorization fault. Please contact a member of staff immediately.

Nick looked around, wondering if anyone else had received such a message. There was no obvious sign they had. They appeared rapt in their concentration on their tablets.

Except for the man moving between them and heading in Nick’s direction. He was short and rotund, of Asian appearance, Indian maybe, aged sixty or seventy, with steely grey hair and sad, spaniel-like eyes behind gold-framed glasses. His dark suit wasn’t quite as elegantly cut as those of most of the other men in the room and, unusually in this gathering, he was wearing a tie. He looked slightly out of place. But he also looked as if that didn’t bother him.

He smiled as he reached Nick. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ he said quietly, almost deferentially.

Nick tried hard to look blasé. ‘Is there a problem?’

‘My name is Vardekar.’

‘Yes?’

‘Yours, I think, is Miller.’

‘Have we met?’

‘Not until now.’

‘Look, Mr Vardekar, I …’

‘Would you mind accompanying me to an adjoining room? We need to discuss a delicate issue. And we need a little privacy to do it in.’

‘I prefer to stay out here.’

‘That would be unwise. We do have security personnel here, though they masquerade as waiters very effectively. Technically speaking, Baroness Cushing failed to register you as her proxy. Removing you forcibly would be within our rights as set out in the terms and conditions of participation.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘Well, that’s one view of the small print in our contracts. But, legally speaking, we are in the right, so I’d advise compliance with my request.’ He gave Nick an avuncular grin. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of.’

Nick was far from sure he believed him. The two waiters threading a path towards them looked to be carrying a lot of muscle under their well-cut shirts and their expressions suggested they took their duties – whatever they were – quite seriously.

‘Nobody here will spring to your defence, Nick. They’re not the kind of people who do that, as I’m sure you realize. So, just come with me. And we can have a quiet word together. That’s all I’m asking you to do.’

‘I have a lot of questions, Mr Vardekar.’

‘I’ll try to answer them.’

‘Really?’