Artemis frowned. He’d hoped business could wait until after lunch.

‘Wouldn’t you like to see a menu?’

‘No. I don’t eat much any more. Pills and liquids mostly. Gut problems.’

‘Very well,’ said Artemis, laying an aluminum briefcase on the table.

‘To business then.’

He flipped the case’s lid, revealing a red cube the size of a minidisc player, nestling in blue foam.

Spiro cleaned his spectacles with the tail end of his tie.

‘What am I seeing here, kid?’

Artemis placed the shining box on the table.

‘The future, Mister Spiro. Ahead of schedule.’

Jon Spiro leaned in, taking a good look.

‘Looks like a paperweight to me.’

Arno Blunt sniggered, his eyes taunting Butler.

‘A demonstration then,’ said Artemis, picking up the metal box. He pressed a button and the gadget purred into life. Sections slid back to reveal speakers and a screen.

‘Cute,’ muttered Spiro. ‘I flew three thousand miles for a micro-TV?’

Artemis nodded. ‘A micro-TV. But also a verbally controlled computer, a mobile phone, a diagnostic aid. This little box can read any information on absolutely any platform, electrical or organic. It can play videos, laserdiscs, DVDs; go online, retrieve e-mail, hack any computer.

It can even scan your chest to see how fast your heart’s beating. Its battery is good for two years and, of course, it’s completely wireless.’

Artemis paused, to let it sink in.

Spiro’s eyes seemed huge behind his spectacles.

‘You mean, this box. .?’

‘Will render all other technology obsolete. Your computer plants will be worthless.’

The American took several deep breaths.

‘But how. . how?’