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was, at best, debateable, it was pretty clear that once the losses attributable to any prolonged inability to trade were factored into the equation, it would probably be a write-off. The fact that Hellenic owned rather than leased their building, in many ways, would make the final conclusion and negotiations simpler.
    McRae, on the other hand, felt distinctly frustrated. What he needed above all was to get more information about the destroyed garments and he was increasingly impatient to talk to Kanelos. The meeting between Kanelos and his assessor should have started over half an hour ago.
Where the hell was he?
    Excusing himself and leaving Grim to continue his chat with Gallo, McRae made his way to the remains of the warehouse to see how Kevin was getting on. Badly, was the simple answer.
    The young adjuster, whose white disposable overall had already taken on a filthy shade of grey, was, literally, up to his neck in what looked like a pile of extremely dirty laundry. He was also, metaphorically, fed up to the back teeth.
    McRae’s cheery enquiry of ‘How’s it going, Kev?’ was met with a pregnant silence before the young man replied.
    â€˜At this rate, I’ll finish in about three months. It’s bloody ridiculous.’
    â€˜Well, what have you checked so far?’
    Kevin gestured towards a molehill-sized pile of what appeared to be blouses, which was segregated from the rest of the stock.
    â€˜That’s not too bad,’ lied McRae. ‘You’ll find it easier as you go; you’ll begin to get a better feel for what you’re dealing with.’
    â€˜Really?’ came the sarcastic response.
    As he walked away, leaving Kevin to his misery, McRae had reluctantly concluded that the size of the task was, in truth, too great for one man. He decided to draft in some additional support, if he could. He’d check whether Mike, Kevin’s junior colleague, could also be spared from other cases. It would shorten the process considerably and they would at least be company for each other. Spending damp, tiring days on your own in a cold, dark, gutted warehouse wasn’t anyone’s idea of a good time.
    Reaching the office block, McRae could see that a light was shining from the interior of the directors’ office. They must have got some temporary power on.
Maybe a generator
, he thought. Before tackling the stairs, with the firm intention of interrupting Kanelos’ meeting, McRae called Karen from the empty canteen to ask her to cancel Mike’s appointments for the next few days. He wanted Mike in Walsall tomorrow, at the latest.
    As he was replacing his phone in his jacket pocket, he heard footsteps on the bare wooden stairs.
Thank God, sounds like the meeting is over
.
    Reaching the hallway leading to the stairs, he was just in time to see the back of the familiar figure of Kanelos stepping out of the main entrance. He hurried to catch up.
    As he approached the entrance, he could see that Kanelos and Wagner were chatting animatedly in the porch, but also that another vaguely familiar figure was climbing into the driver’s seat of a small grey Fiat saloon.
    Wagner was the first to observe McRae’s emergence from the gloom of the passage.
    â€˜Drew, nice to see you again,’ he stepped forward, smiling broadly with his hand extended. He looked as immaculate and as wealthy as ever – good suit, Italian loafers and more than a hint of a tan.
    A bearded Mancunian in his late thirties, Daniel Wagner was a partner at Adelstein and Brooks. Like most assessors, Daniel – or Danny as he was usually known – worked a wide geographical area, despite being based in the North West. If the job was big enough and lucrative enough, Danny could, and frequently did, cover anywhere from Newcastle to London.
    McRae had dealt with Wagner many times over the years. Assessors were different in many ways to the loss adjusters who they oppose.
    While most