‘Did you pressurise Kendall to drop the planned abolition of the dividend tax credit?’ Again, silence. ‘We can talk on whatever basis you like. Off the record if you prefer. If anyone ever asks, this conversation never happened. I just want to know why my sister was so upset, days before she died.’

That gets a snort. ‘Talk on whatever basis. You know I work for Schon. And we never talk to the press, on any basis. Don’t be an idiot. Of course we’re not going to talk, even for old times’ sake.’

‘Just tell me what you can and I promise I’ll never attribute anything to you, even in private.’

He looks left and right. ‘I know you’ve been through hell, Gil, but my advice is stay away from all of this. It’s delicate stuff. And honestly, I don’t think there’s a story.’

‘I know your PPE days were a while ago, but if there isn’t a story, how can my digging around be a problem? Your two statements are not consistent.’

‘Fuck you!’ he snaps. ‘I am doing my best to be nice. But you haven’t changed. Just do yourself a favour and walk away before you do a lot of damage. Especially to yourself.’

A black Mercedes is crawling down the street towards us.

‘What the fuck happened?’ I ask him. ‘You used to be cool. Now you’re just a wanker.’ Muller gives the car a curt wave and steps forward to the kerb.

There’s nothing more to be had from him. I was naïve to think I’d get anything at all. But his warning has reminded me of Breitner’s parting shot.

‘What happened to the dog?’

He turns. ‘What?’

‘Breitner’s Rottweiler.’

‘You don’t know?’

The Merc has stopped. The chauffeur has climbed out and is holding the back door open for Muller, but Muller doesn’t get in. He wants to tell me this.

‘Breitner was hosting a family dinner in South Africa, at his mansion on the Cape coast. The dog was sleeping in the corner. Breitner called him over and fed him a scrap off his plate, then sent him away again. But the dog didn’t go. He climbed up and took a piece of meat from Breitner’s kid’s plate. Everyone was laughing about it, but Breitner was furious.’

He pauses, making me ask the question. ‘And?’

‘Breitner took the dog outside and shot him. Dead.’

Traffic has started to build up. A white Ford Escort honks. With a smile, Muller slides into the back seat of the Mercedes. The door closes with that cushioned thunk. Muller winds down the window.

‘I’d offer you a lift Gil. But you’re not going my way.’

Chapter 18

Chapter 18