The awkward silence that followed was cut short by a voice from a tiny speaker below the camera.

‘Yes, Bertholt, we see you. How many?’

‘Two,’ replied Bertholt. ‘One key holder and one minor. Coming down to open a box.’

The lift door slid back to reveal a steel cuboid with no buttons or panels, just a camera elevated in one corner. They stepped inside and the lift was remotely activated.

Artemis noticed Bertholt wringing his hands as soon as they began to descend.

‘Hey, Bertholt? What’s the problem? It’s only a lift.’

Bertholt forced a smile. Barely a glint of tooth showed beneath his moustache.

‘You don’t miss much, do you, Alfonse? I don’t like small spaces. And there are no controls in here, for security reasons. The lift is operated from the desk. If it were to break down, we would be relying on the guards to rescue us. This thing is virtually airtight. What if the guard had a heart attack, or went on a coffee break? We could all —’

The bank official’s nervous rant was cut off by the hiss of the lift door. They had arrived at the deposit box floor.

‘Here we are,’ said Bertholt, mopping his forehead with a paper tissue. A section of the paper remained trapped in the worry lines of his forehead, and fluttered there like a windsock in the blast from the air conditioner. ‘Safe, you see. Absolutely no need to worry. All is well.’ He laughed nervously. ‘Shall we?’

A bulky security guard was waiting for them outside the lift. Artemis noted the sidearm on his belt, and the earpiece cord winding along his neck.

‘Willkommen, Bertholt, you made it in one piece. Again.’

Bertholt plucked the strand of tissue from his forehead. ‘Yes, Kurt, I made it, and don’t think the scorn in your voice goes unnoticed.’

Kurt sighed mightily, allowing the escaping air to flap his lips. ‘Please pardon my phobic countryman,’ he said to Butler. ‘Everything terrifies him, from spiders to lifts. It’s a wonder he ever gets out of bed. Now, if you could stand on the yellow square and raise both arms to shoulder level.’