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Lately, that was looking like an attractive option.

Panos ran his hand over his eyes, trying to blot out the memory; he didn’t want to think too much about what Mick had meant.

‘Panos?’ she repeated softly.

‘I’m here.’ He tried to inject some life into his voice. ‘I’m sorry I snapped, darling. You know how hard it was for me when Peter died.’

‘I know, Panos.’

‘Are you feeling okay?’

‘Yes. I’m not too bad. It’s been nice to have some visitors.’

He’d been waiting for this to happen ever since the call from security that someone from Makowa Lodge had flown over the drill site. Ellie Porter would not let it go. They should have put the new barbed wire fence at the front gate, but that would have been like telling passers-by ‘Illegal Drilling Taking Place On This Property’.

He should have gone to the farm and spent the weekend with Susan, but his guilt kept him away. The guilt about trying to convince Peter to sell, the guilt about Susan having to live in that dump, the guilt about what was happening down the back, they all gnawed at his insides like the cancer that was slowly killing his wife.

So he’d slept on the couch in his office, eaten at McDonald’s around the corner, and taken a small measure of pride in the fact that he’d stayed away from the race meeting.

He’d have to go to the farm soon or find a laundromat. Especially if there was any chance of a face-to-face meeting with Fairweather. Last time they’d met, he’d looked at Panos as though he’d crawled out from under a rock.

‘I’ll be home on Friday night. I’m pleased you had some company. I’ll call you tomorrow night.’

‘Love you, Panos.’

‘Ditto.’ He stared into space as he ended the call. In his own way, he did love Susan. She was a kind woman and had never uttered one word of complaint about their situation. He didn’t deserve her.

Only a few minutes passed before the call he was dreading sounded on his other phone. He looked at it as it chirped out the happy ringtone, and dread clawed at his throat. The ringtone did not reflect the caller on the other end of the line. When Mick had given him the phone that was to be used only for contacting Fairweather, it had been set up for his use, but Panos had not been brave enough to change any of the settings. So the happy tune stayed; it was almost obscene.

The music got louder.

He had to pick it up. And he would have to meet with the cold bastard; it was inevitable. Panos needed more money.

And I deserve more. This deal was worth millions to Fairweather. If he wanted Panos to do his dirty work and secure more committee votes, it was going to cost him.

His hand reached out in front of him, slowly, tentatively, as though the phone would rear up and bite him.

‘Yes?’ He injected confidence into his voice.

‘Panos.’ The voice was soft and the cold spread through his whole body. ‘I’ve received a very disturbing call from the site.’

‘Which site?’

‘Don’t play with me, Panos. I know Ellie Porter has been out there. You’ve just spoken to your wife about it.’

Christ help me. He’s tapping my phone as well? With Fairweather’s reach, Panos should have realised all of his calls would be tracked but for God’s sake, he’d only hung up a few minutes ago.

‘So what are you going to do about it?’

He cleared his throat. ‘I was just pondering the situation when you called. Susan said Ellie had visited her. Maybe she didn’t see anything.’

‘You’re lying to me, Panos.’ When Fairweather spoke his words were like chips of ice. ‘I know you’ve spoken to Ellie Porter. Twice. In fact, I have transcripts of both calls in front of me. What do you think is in that box?’

God help me. ‘I don’t –’

‘Think back carefully. Did you give anything to Peter that had the company name on it?’

‘No.’