‘That kinda work attracts big fees and we hit them. So far, no payment. Just the runaround.’

‘Like what?’ I said.

He shrugged. ‘Reorganisation of the accounts department, computer problems, personnel changes. Bullshit.’

‘I’m still not clear what this meeting’s about.’

Darcy Travers, a florid fatty who’d been eating as well as listening, put down his chopsticks and leaned forward just as my food arrived. As the one in the group holding the best hand for a coronary, he upped his chances by lighting a cigarette. ‘Sentinel could go bottom up.’

I was beginning to think I’d come back to the Super-bowl-they provided forks as well as chopsticks, which I’d never learned to use. I dug into the food. ‘There’s a watchdog, isn’t there?’ I said as I lifted a forkful towards my mouth. ‘Some acronym or other.’

Di Maggio took a slug of wine. ‘Yeah, ASIC. Not known for its sharp teeth, am I right? And suppose Sentinel goes into receivership, where do you reckon a bunch of private investigators will rate in the creditor list?’

I could see his point. Our trade has a bad reputation which is only partly deserved. I ate some of the shredded chicken and salty fish and found it tasty. The wine was good as well. I didn’t overplay it, just let a few beats pass.

‘Not high,’ I said. ‘Maybe ahead of the cleaners.’

Di Maggio moved his bowl, glass and eating implements aside, clearing a space in front of him as if he was going in to bat.

I couldn’t help myself. ‘Stepping up to the plate, Scotty?’

He gave me a bleak smile. ‘You’re not the first guy to crack wise at my expense like that. Joe was a great-uncle of mine, as it happens, and I played bush league ball for a time. I was offered a try-out for the show but I turned it down. Know why?’

Chastened, I shook my head.

‘The chewing tobacco gives you cancer of the soft palate and the shoulder damage makes it so you can only fuck on the bottom. You like fucking on the bottom, Cliffy?’