The purpose was to provide as forceful a warning as possible to any other Russian or supposed middleman who thought it was easy to cheat, so the man who’d tried this time had been horrendously tortured throughout the night.

First they had cut out his tongue, to quieten his screams. His testicles formed the gag, completed by his lips being sewn together. The body, naked to show the mutilations, was cast adrift in a skiff on Berlin’s Wannsee Lake. It was mid-afternoon before a curious rower came close enough to discover it. And went insanely hysterical.

Stanislav Georgevich Silin had prided himself – become complacent – that he’d done it all, knew it all. Which he had. And did. Except for this. Which was a dangerous mistake. Fatal, even. Except that he’d been warned in time. Still, something he shouldn’t have allowed to happen. Hadn’t he, when he’d made his bid, used complacency, like his was being used against him now? Trying to be used against him now. But wouldn’t be, because now he knew. He smiled across the room at Petr Markov, who’d guarded him for so long and given him the warning on the way here this morning. Misunderstanding, Markov crossed the room enquiringly towards him. Silin hadn’t wanted the man for anything – except to show his gratitude, which he would do, later – but then he thought of Marina and changed his mind. She was never alone – since becoming boss of bosses Silin had always ensured she had her own bodyguards – but he didn’t want to take any chances now. Certainly not with Marina: she could never be endangered. He whispered his instructions before sitting back in his chair at the table around which the rest of the Commission were assembling, still annoyed with himself. He should never have forgotten how he’d used complacency as the weapon to get where he was now, at the pinnacle.