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‘And it’s not always about the cash, you WOP oaf.’
    Walker sighed inwardly; this was more like their usual banter. ‘Beautiful words. So how do you know you’re being watched?’
    ‘I’ve noticed the same people hanging around a few times. On the Tube, near my grocers. I think they might be renting a flat in the opposite building. I’ve seen light reflecting off something like a telescope in one of the apartments there.’
    ‘You’ve got to lay off that bloody stuff you’re smoking. For a while at least.’
    ‘I’m serious.’
    ‘Me too.’ Walker lit his cigarette, becoming impatient. ‘And who would be following you,anyway?’
    DM glared at him. ‘Aren’t you listening? It
must
be from Frankel, someone high up there. They have Zhu and they’ve known about Deep, at least the Alpha version, for a while.’ The mathematician jumped up, his expression stormy. ‘They want it real bad, I know.’
    ‘Come on, trying to buy you out is one thing but… This is ridiculous. Frankel Schwartz is a big investment bank, not the bloody Hydra you make it out to be.’
    ‘I wouldn’t be so sure.’ DM stepped back, his intense eyes burning with rage. ‘You know what Kissinger said,’ he rasped.
    Walker looked at him blankly. ‘What?’
    ‘Even a paranoid can have enemies, Yours.’
    The mathematician swore again, spun on his heel and rushed to the side entrance that would take him down into Dorfmann’s basement. Walker let him go, then he finished his cigarette and stubbed it out. DM was falling to pieces. The man needed to be taken away for a few days, to decompress. He worked through the options for a second, then smiled: Monaco.
    They hadn’t been to the Cote d’Azur in years, not since the ’08 crash. A long weekend, roulette, and stunning girls. He knew a trader at a Swiss bank who would rent them his Dossani yacht, a 36-foot sleek beast moulded in carbon fibre, with all the proper toys. Another week to unwind his trading book and make the bank some serious cash, and they’d head off. They both needed a break, badly.
    Walker’s BlackBerry beeped and he checked it: two minutes to the meeting. He dodged a pregnant lady wobbling past him and slipped, but as he regained his balance he glimpsed the same well-dressed woman staring at him again from across the plaza. Suddenly uneasy, he pivoted and took a few quick steps in her direction. She dropped her paper, turned and slipped behind a kiosk.
    When Walker reached the corner she had vanished into thin air.
What the hell was that?
His phone beeped again and he swore, making his way back to the bank’s entrance.

Chapter Two
    The Previous Night. Sunday, September 30th – 7.41 P.M.
    The ring swayed before his eyes and Walker stepped aside, twisting and dodging a left hook. The glove grazed his padded helmet, but just as he prepared to respond a right fist clattered into his ribs, winding him. The world slowed as he half-fell to the ropes, barely managing to avoid a straight punch that would have broken his nose. Someone shouted and his opponent danced back, a nasty smile on his lips.
    Coach Newstead left his corner and hurried to Walker, helping him climb back up. The old pro stared at his eyes, trying to decide whether to stop the sparring.
    ‘Are you okay, Scott?’
    Walker shook his head, his vision still blurred. ‘Yeah.’
    ‘You sure? We can have a short break.’
    ‘No, I’m fine.’ He took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his lower chest. ‘Just another round.’
    Newstead nodded, glancing at Teddy, the seventeen-year-old who was battering Walker. ‘Left hitting only, tiger.’
    ‘Yes Coach.’
    ‘Box!’
    Walker rushed in, feinting and changing guard to a southpaw stance. He swivelled and avoided a left hook, then pushed off his right heel and slipped a lower cross, aiming for the solar plexus. His opponent swatted him aside as he had expected, his right hand darting through for a jab that rattled the youngster.
    Teddy shuffled back and