George Banks shook his head. ‘I’m going to leave that decision to our new masters. I’m willing to accept that this was a mistake, that maybe you forwarded this virus by accident. Your record has been impeccable up to now. Everyone tells me what a good worker you are – how bright and reliable you’ve always been. I understand you’ve just got married and have a child on the way. Personally, I can’t see what you could gain from sabotaging your own employer. But for God’s sake, Jamie, you’ve got to be careful.’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Maybe you’d better take a few more days’ leave. Some of your colleagues lost a lot of files and are – understandably or not – unhappy with you.’

‘OK.’

Jamie stood up and George Banks opened the door. Before Jamie left the office, George said, ‘It goes without saying that if I find out that you did do this on purpose, you’ll be out of here so fast you’ll catch fire.’

‘Yes sir,’ Jamie said bleakly. ‘But I didn’t.’

He walked through the office with his head down, ignoring the whispers and stares. He picked his bag up from his desk and walked towards the exit. Mike followed him to the lift.

‘What happened?’ he asked, eager for gossip.

‘He told me to take a few days off.’

‘He didn’t sack you?’

‘No.’

‘Did you do it on purpose? Striking a blow for the workers and all that?’

Jamie hissed, ‘Of course I didn’t do it. But I know who did.’

‘You do? Who?’

‘My neighbours.’

Mike looked surprised. ‘How could they have?’

The lift reached the ground floor. ‘They broke into my flat and put the virus onto my PC then emailed it from there. Chris works in computing too so he’d know how to do it.’

‘Fucking hell.’ He shook his head. ‘That’s just…unbelievable.’

‘Tell me about it.’

Jamie strode off, leaving Mike behind. For a second there, as the lift doors pinged open, he had been on the verge of asking Mike to contact his thug friends. Only a mixture of fear and willpower had stopped him from doing so.

He walked out to his car, taking his keys out of his pocket and rattling them in the palm of his hand. As he went to unlock the door he caught his breath. There was a long, deep scratch along the side of the car. He felt his heart fly up into his mouth. He rubbed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. When he looked again the scratch had gone.

He had been so certain he had seen it. It had been there, right before his eyes, a thick silver line etched deep in the blue paintwork.

Jesus. The noises in the flat. And now this.

He drove home, convinced he was going mad.

Chapter Nineteen

Nineteen

‘I asked for Dodds.’