‘Don’t joke, it’s serious. I want to hire you to check on everything-all the mail, all the staff, do bodyguarding, the lot. The money’d be right.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure. I’d be like a quango. It’s not my sort of thing, Peter. I do specific jobs-find this, protect that for such and such a time, mind him and her and their money for the weekend. I’m a…what is it, empiricist? I’m no good at generalising.’

‘Sounds like you’ve been doing the political theory bit already.’

‘Helen left a few books around. I’ve had the time to read them.’

It was the wrong thing to say because it gave him an opening. ‘If you came to work for me for, say, six months, you could tuck a fair bit of money away, Cliff. Quite a bit one way and another. Could be enough to get you a place up the coast. Where is she?’

I answered without thinking. ‘Kempsey.’

‘Nice up there. Place for you by the sea. Get away from all the dirt down here. More time with Helen. What d’you think?’ He tossed off the Scotch and sneaked a look towards the bottle. He was genuinely worried about something big but just for now he was savouring a possible small victory. I didn’t want him to have it.

‘I’ve never worked for a politician, not in 13 years. I’ve had a strict rule against it. And I don’t want to be a security consultant.’

‘That’s how I’d get it through the ledger shits. Pragmatism, Cliff. Come across that in your reading?’

‘No,’ I said.

And that’s when the bomb went off.

2

The blast rocked the old building to its foundations. The door between January and me and the outer office disintegrated and the glass flew back like shrapnel. January screamed and collapsed forward across the desk towards me. The crisp back and sleeves of his white shirt turned soggy red. I felt everything around me and inside me loosen and the roar seemed to block out all other sounds and all feeling.