‘Hi,’ Jack said. ‘Look, I could spin you some kind of story about a snap health and safety inspection, or something equally implausible, but we’re both busy men and we haven’t got time to dance around. Let’s cut to the chase. How much money will it take for you to let us through to the lifts?’

The man’s face folded up into a scowl. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’

‘That entirely depends on whether you find the concept of hard cash inherently funny.’

Martin shook his head. ‘You ain’t getting in there.’

‘Five hundred of your quaint British pounds.’

‘No way.’

‘Six hundred.’

‘It’s more than my job’s worth, mate.’

‘Sitting in a lobby being ignored by everyone who walks past isn’t a job, it’s just a way of watching your life slip away. Did you grow up wanting to be a security guard in an office block? Did you lie awake at night dreaming about handing visitor’s passes out to stressed people turning up late for meetings? Seven hundred.’

‘Look – who the hell do you think you are?’

‘Come on, I’m on a tight budget here. Seven hundred and fifty pounds, and that’s my final offer. Take an evening class. Follow your dream.’

Martin looked around. Nobody else was paying any attention to them. Catching Jack’s eye, he glanced meaningfully down at something just below the level of the desk, then back again. ‘I ain’t got time for this,’ he said loudly, and turned away. Jack leaned over and felt around with his fingers. There was a box down there, on a shelf hidden by the desk’s surface, and there were four or five things like credit cards in the box. He scooped two of the cards out, replacing them with a thick envelope he’d taken from a pocket in his coat. ‘Nice doing business with you,’ he said. ‘Hope the rest of your life works out OK. Drop me a line, OK?’

Gwen watched him return with an expression of disbelief on her face. ‘Firstly, that was bribery. Secondly, did that envelope really have seven hundred and fifty pounds in it? Thirdly, if it did then how did you know that’s how much it would take?’

‘Funny thing,’ Jack said; ‘it always ends up at seven hundred and fifty pounds with security guards, no matter where we start off. Must be a union thing.’