Inside the penthouse suite of the Royal Aviation building, the oppressive silence of the room was broken only by the rhythmic, frantic squeak of Joe Bright's leather shoes against the polished parquet floor.
Ten minutes had passed since his assistant had routed the call to Golden Investments, and every second felt like a slow drop of acid on Joe's raw nerves. He couldn't sit down. His hands were stuffed deep into his trouser pockets, his fingers twitching uncontrollably around his car keys.
'Forty-two point nine million marks in gross fees.'
