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I looked at him and drank a slow mouthful.

‘You were talking about that piece of mine. The one about that drugs case. Do you remember the name of the accused?’

‘No, of course I can’t remember all the names in a piece like that.’

‘André. André T.’ The glasses clinked as Joost’s fist came down. I knew that his eyes would grow larger, his mouth would fall open, and that he would lick his top lip with the tip of his tongue.

‘Holy fuck,’ said Joost, eyes wide. ‘Holy goddamned fuck. Fucking André. Into fucking drugs.’

‘He was already involved when I got married. Do you remember the Porsche he turned up in?’

‘I scarcely spoke to him at the time. All I remember was that he had a dreadful blond babe with him.’

‘That’s right. Mandy.’

Joost looked at me and, undoubtedly for the first time in ages, shut up for thirty seconds. I enjoyed the hubbub in the background immensely.

‘And?’

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘The prosecutor didn’t have a chance.’

‘Oh. That’s good to hear. Well done, André. Did you talk to him?’