A buzzer sounded in the hall. It made Hoffmann jump.

‘That’s probably the ambulance,’ said Gabrielle. ‘I’ll open the gate.’

While she was out of the room, Hoffmann said, ‘I suppose this is going to get into the press?’

‘Is that a problem?’

‘I try to keep my name out of the papers.’

‘We’ll endeavour to be discreet. Do you have any enemies, Dr Hoffmann?’

‘No, not that I know of. Certainly no one who’d do anything like this.’

‘Some rich investor – Russian, perhaps – who’s lost money?’

‘We don’t lose money.’ Still, Hoffmann tried to think if there was anyone on his client list who might possibly be involved. But no: it was inconceivable. ‘Is it safe for us to stay here, do you think, with this maniac on the loose?’

‘We’ll have our people here most of the day, and tonight we can keep an eye on the place – perhaps put a car in the road. But I have to say that generally we find that men in your position prefer to take precautions of their own.’

‘You mean hire bodyguards?’ Hoffmann grimaced. ‘I don’t want to live like that.’

‘Unfortunately, a house like this is always going to attract unwanted attention. And bankers are not especially popular these days, even in Switzerland.’ Leclerc looked around the room. ‘May I ask how much you paid for it?’

Normally Hoffmann would have told him to go to hell, but he didn’t have the strength. ‘Sixty million dollars.’

‘Oh my!’ Leclerc pursed his lips in pain. ‘You know, I can’t afford to live in Geneva any more. My wife and I have moved to a house just over the border in France, where things are cheaper. Of course it means I have to drive in every day, but there it is.’