Tonight, the hotel’s newest waiter had won Nowak’s custom and he was eager to impress. The hotel’s policy of discretion was well known. The staff took their work very seriously, and for those with aspirations The Mansion was the place to be. Fulfil the needs of the right client and you could find yourself living a much wealthier lifestyle. To keep the drink flowing and the customers socially lubricated, the waiters had developed their own system of signals. It was faster than the tech devices favoured by chain restaurants and didn’t leave a trace, something that was important to The Mansion’s clientele.

Nowak’s waiter took his order and signalled the bartender, who was ready and waiting. He, in turn, crushed a small white pill into the bottom of a tall glass, poured coffee liqueur over it, then vodka, and gave it a good shake in a silver cocktail shaker before serving it in a glass over crushed ice. He placed the drink on the tray, and poured out two more, then handed them to the waiter, who safely delivered them to the table. Nowak knocked them back fast. He was celebrating the safe arrival of his shipment, which was currently sitting in the boot of a new Ferrari. Nice touch from the suppliers, he thought. It would be fun to christen the car. He leaned in towards Juliet. They’d met last week at the races and he had been showering her with expensive gifts. He believed this gave him the right to partake of her today. He ran a finger under one of the scarlet strips of her dress, just beneath her cleavage.

‘You know, my Ferrari is waiting outside,’ he said. ‘You…you would look beautiful behind the wheel.’ He moved forward to kiss her but she backed away. Offended by her rejection, he turned his attention to another woman to his left. Juliet placed her hand on his thigh. He watched as her slender fingers moved slowly upwards. Her eyes widened and she parted her glossy pink lips, moving them closer to his. She waited for him to meet her mouth and when he didn’t she pulled him in, one hand behind his head, the other deftly reaching for the keys in his pocket and secreting them in Mina’s open purse.

Mina picked up her clutch bag. Reality had suddenly hit her and her stomach turned. ‘I don’t feel too good,’ she said to Juliet. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

Seeing her pallor, Nowak stood to attention. ‘Take her to the ladies room, please,’ he said to Juliet. ‘This is a five-thousand-pound jacket. I don’t want her vomit on it. She couldn’t afford the cleaning bill.’