He got up and dressed himself slowly, with an empty feeling inside. He made coffee in the kitchen and sat drinking it in an armchair in the living room where the sun slanted in and warmed the air.

Closing his eyes he pictured her at the airport. Or perhaps she hadn’t yet left her apartment and was still packing. He allowed the thought to flicker through his mind only briefly. It was over, a thing of the past, already a memory that he would lock away with all the others.

The phone rang, a long single ring, then an interminable wait before it rang again. He rose reluctantly and crossed the room. ‘Bannerman.’ His voice caught on the phlegm that had gathered in his throat overnight and he coughed.

‘A heavy night, Neil?’ A pause. ‘Hector Lewis here.’

‘What have you got?’ Bannerman sat down on the edge of the settee and wiped the sleep from his eyes.

‘I thought I’d call you early in case I missed you. I tried yesterday evening, both at your office and at this number, but you were out gallivanting no doubt.’

Bannerman repeated irritably, ‘What have you got?’

‘Now hold on just a minute, my old friend, not so fast.’ His smarminess oozed across the telephone lines all the way from Switzerland, and it occurred to Bannerman that Lewis would not have been trying this hard to reach him if he hadn’t hit on something worthwhile. ‘It’s going to cost you.’

‘You said that already.’

‘Yes, but that was two days ago, and I was talking about the search fees. Now it’s going to cost you to keep the information exclusive.’

‘What the hell do you mean, Lewis?’ Bannerman fought to stay calm.

‘I mean I’ve just unwrapped a time bomb that’s going to blow up in a lot of faces in London and Brussels. It’s meaty stuff, Neil, and in column inches alone I could make thousands.’

‘I could be on a plane for Switzerland within the hour and break your fucking neck by lunchtime.’

‘Haha, yes, that’s good, Neil, but by lunchtime I could have sold the story halfway around the world, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?’

Bannerman felt his grip tighten around the phone. He should never have trusted this to Lewis. But he’d had no choice. Now he was being screwed. ‘So?’

‘So I have a certain reputation for confidentiality to maintain, and since you came to me in good faith, I’m offering you first option – in good faith.’

‘You bastard!’

‘It’s how I make my money.’

‘How much?’

‘Ten thousand.’

Bannerman was stunned. ‘You’ve got to be out of your mind, Lewis! You think the Post’s going to pay ten grand for a company search?’

‘They will for this one.’

Bannerman’s thoughts were racing. ‘I would need to know what I’m buying.’