Just as the man who knew when he was going to die was signing his written confession, another man was contemplating a house that was more like a secret. The air was cold and raw, irritating his windpipe when he inhaled. The April weather was changeable. This was going to be good. Very good. The house had been built by hands so discreet that hardly anyone knew it existed. Hardly anyone. That was enough for the man, who turned to the woman standing beside him.

‘Could I take a look indoors?’ he said.

‘Of course.’

The man glanced around. The garden was pretty large, and beyond it lay a small field, then nothing but forest as far as the eye could see.

Perfect.

The woman unlocked the front door and held it open for him.

‘The construction was completed just under five years ago. There was nothing illegal about the project, but we were very careful to keep it quiet as far as we could. The house isn’t linked to the municipal water supply or the sewage system. We dug a well, and we have a septic tank that we empty ourselves. We also have our own electricity supply thanks to a diesel generator.’

‘I understand,’ the man said, even though he really didn’t.

To think that such a place could exist. It was astonishing. It also made him feel more than a little naïve. Was this how it felt when time slipped away? Or was it simply that this house was a consequence of a society that was growing colder and colder? He knew who the property developers behind the project were, knew their history.

As he stepped inside he felt at the front door. It was thicker than a normal door, seemed to weigh a ton.

The woman seemed pleased.

‘Both the windows and doors are designed to withstand gunfire,’ she explained. ‘The glass was ordered especially from a supplier in Germany and is strong enough to take dozens of blows with a hammer or something similar without breaking.’

‘Sounds like the windows in the Oval Office,’ the man said.

His companion laughed.

‘We actually had the White House in mind when we designed this bunker. I think we did pretty well.’

The man raised an eyebrow.

‘Bunker?’

‘We don’t want anyone to forget that it’s no ordinary house.’

Stunned into silence, he walked from room to room. His pulse rate increased; never in his wildest dreams had he imagined there could be such a simple solution to his problem. The house was perfect, absolutely perfect.

‘How long can I rent it for?’ He couldn’t do anything about the hoarseness in his voice.

‘It’s available for at least six months. Do you think that’ll be enough?’

All of a sudden he wasn’t sure.

‘I don’t know. The thing is, I don’t need it until later in the spring. When my daughter returns from overseas.’