He led the way through a gallery in which models and photographs of some of their more spectacular recent projects were displayed: office towers, a football stadium, a dinosaur museum. Jennifer Mathieson described them briefly as they passed, but the visitors seemed more interested in her red hair and long legs. They came to a milky glass wall that parted with a mechanical sigh in front of them, and entered the auditorium that had been prepared for the formal presentation. While the Chinese accepted coffees and took them to their seats, Jennifer whispered urgently in his ear, ‘Where the hell is he, Sandy?’

‘He must still be upstairs in the flat,’ Clarke said calmly. ‘I saw a light on when I arrived this morning. I asked Elaine to call him.’

‘I spoke to her. She says no one’s answering the phone. There’s no sign of Miki either.’

Clarke could understand her consternation. This wasn’t at all like Charles. Normally he’d have been down in the office hours before, thrashing out the final details of the presentation with the media unit.

‘Maybe he’s in the shower or on his mobile. He’s probably still jet-lagged from the States. Why don’t you go up there, Jennifer? Take the key and winkle him out. I’ll get things started.’

He fixed a confident smile on his face as Jennifer made for the door.

The audience was waiting. Clarke walked to the front of the room and introduced the other senior staff of the Verge Practice who were present.

‘And Mr Verge?’ Cheong asked haltingly. ‘Will he join us?’

‘Naturally, Mr Verge intended to join us. He has been totally involved in the proposals you are about to see. Unfortunately, he seems to have picked up a virus on a recent trip to California, and he has been unwell. He will join us if he possibly can.’