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redoubled by the thought of a total stranger issuing orders.
    ‘Don’t you . . .’ he began.
    ‘I said, enough,’ Bates repeated, without releasing his grip.
    The foreman’s shoulders suddenly flexed as he swung his free arm round, his fist aiming straight at the side of Bates’ head. Before it had time to connect, Bates grabbed on to the foreman’s shoulder and, dropping his opposite knee, sent him sprawling in a classic jiu-jitsu roll. The foreman’s huge body toppled forward, his own weight sending him crashing across the dining tables. He skidded to a halt against the service hatch as the last of the coffee mugs smashed to the floor.
    ‘What the . . .’ he began, more shocked than hurt. His eyes flickered between Luca and the nondescript office worker who had so easily bested him.
    ‘You’re suspended, Matthews!’ the foreman bellowed, quickly finding his voice but still eyeing Bates warily. ‘Suspended without pay! I’m going to make sure they throw the fucking book at you!’
    Bates was the first to react, reaching forward and taking Luca by the shoulder. He bundled him out of the room and along the corridor, while from behind the sound of the foreman’s voice echoed up the flight of stairs. As they passed through the neighbouring Portacabin and walked towards the storm-locked doors, Bates drew to a halt.
    ‘Forget about that guy and focus on what’s in front of you.’
    Luca nodded distractedly, suddenly trying to imagine himself on a flight to Antarctica.
    ‘And a word of warning,’ Bates continued. ‘Watch out for the Russian poet, Dedov. He’s one of those larger than life, charismatic types – all smiles and hugs, until you peel back the façade of course. Watch him like a hawk.’
    ‘I just have to put in this spyware thing, right?’ Luca asked. ‘That’s it.’
    ‘That’s it.’
    Luca turned so that he was staring at his friend straight on. ‘And I’ve got your word I’ll be working for you? No one else.’
    Bates nodded. ‘Just me. This doesn’t go any higher up the chain.’
    As he said the words, he dug his shoulder into the door, swinging it back on its heavy iron hinges. Once they were outside rain beat down on them, soaking their clothes in a few seconds. Bates smiled.
    ‘And, trust me, I’ll be a better boss. I don’t even own a clipboard.’

Chapter 2
    SNOW FELL. IT was light, flurrying in the updrafts off the Seine River. It caught momentarily in the orange glow of the street lamps lining the Quai Voltaire before finally sinking down into the dark folds of freezing water. A single car turned left off Pont Royal and out towards the vaulted glass archways of the Musée d’Orsay. It moved slowly, tyres leaving fresh tracks in the otherwise empty road.
    It was five-thirty in the morning, and Beatrice Makuru was out jogging. Despite the treacherous ground she ran fast, with her breath condensing and lingering in the night air. She cast her eyes up to the snow-covered rooftops of Paris before switching them back again to the road ahead.
    ‘Come on, Bear,’ she muttered, forcing herself on, but she could already feel her thighs starting to cramp.
    It had been nearly six weeks since she had last slept properly. Every evening as she got ready for bed, she would feel the panic rising in her chest. It was the anticipation that was the worst part, the dreadful certainty of what was to come. She would lie in bed just waiting for the hours to pass, trapped in the grey half-light between consciousness and sleep.
    She had never suffered from insomnia before, but now, after so many weeks, it was starting to take its toll.
    Pulling the scarf a little higher across her cheeks, Bear crossed the Pont de la Concorde and jumped over the low iron railings of the Louvre Gardens. She passed a carousel to her right, the silhouettes of the fairytale horses stretching out across the grey lawn. Just ahead, a row of trees blocked out what little light remained, making the pathway appear