“What have you done?” said Olivia again, putting the coffees down.

“I haven't done anything. It was there at quarter past nine. I checked.”

“Well, it's not there now.” She clicked around on the laptop, shaking her head. “Did you save it properly? You know how you are with technology, Becca.”

Graham walked in. He saw the empty screen and went pale.

“Where's the presentation?”

“It's gone,” I said. “Someone—it's been deleted.”

“Deleted? Call Kevin!”

Kevin Doyle ran our IT department. I rang him. He was stuck on a broken-down train outside Clapham Junction.

“I can get it back,” he said. “Probably. But I need to be at my desk. An hour at least.”

We didn't have an hour. We had eight minutes.

Olivia held up her little silver memory stick.

“Well,” she said calmly, “it's a good thing I came prepared. I brought Hartley's After Dark. Just in case.”

She smiled at Graham.

“I'll lead the pitch, Graham. Becca can sit this one out. She's obviously very upset.” Graham looked at her memory stick. Then at me.

I could see him thinking about it.