My mouth is dry and my head is thumping. I barely slept last night. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Sabine then Agnès then the tall and creepy guy then Noah then the photographs I took last night.

My screen glows to life and I feel around the bottom of my handbag for the memory stick in the inner pocket. There’s my lip gloss. Some crumpled expenses receipts. Bobby pins from last night. My heart speeds up as I think of that desk drawer, the fob, the dark back room and the sound outside. What if someone saw me leave?

But then, there.

I’ve found it.

The memory stick.

The one I put my story on late yesterday afternoon. I didn’t want to save it to Sabine’s drive – I suspect that might be logged as evidence soon – but I’ve learned the hard way not to email myself a work in progress. The same way I’ve learned not to tell the likes of Stan what I’m writing about. And I like it, this feeling, like I have a little secret. A small flickering flame I need to protect. It’s mine, all mine, until it burns Agnès’s whole house of cards down.

I take another sip of coffee, click on the hard drive icon and open my article, scanning through what I’ve written so far. It’s passable. And I now have proof that Agnès Bisset set up the foundation that owns Genovexa; proof that she is the one who issued that 100 million euro bond to Philip Crawford-White. But is that a crime? I’m not so sure about that. It sounds like the sort of white collar crime that’s sectioned off from the rest of us with do not cross tape until it’s made into a Netflix Original.

Because I might have video footage of that Klimt in her gallery but no proof that it isn’t simply a fake. I might have a hypothesis that the bond was used as a cover, a way for Mr Crawford-White to receive funds from the buyer of his Klimt entirely legally, but again, can I prove it?

And as I sit here in the low light, all alone in the office, I realise this is how people get away with it. Not because nobody knows but because nobody can prove it.

But Noah will stand before the juge d’instruction soon. I can’t just give up, he’ll go to jail and I know he didn’t do this. I need to do something with what I have. I need to help him.

I think of Thomas, if I were transparent with him, gave him everything I have, would he be able to help? And even if he could, would he help me? Or would he do exactly what Stan did?