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‘John Kott,’ I said. ‘And William Carson. And I’m going to get them. Best bet is for you to stay out of my way. Or I’ll run right over you.’

‘You have no idea.’

‘About what?’

‘You have no idea the trouble you’re in.’

‘Really? Truth is I feel pretty good right now. I’m not the one losing men left and right. That would be you, Joey. So this is a time for common sense and mature judgement, don’t you think? Cut Kott and Carson loose, and I’ll leave you alone. They already did Libor for you, and I’m guessing you already got your money. So what’s in it for you now?’

‘No one messes with me.’

‘As statements go, that’s not entirely accurate, is it? I’m already messing with you. And I’m going to keep on messing with you, until you cut Kott and Carson loose. Your choice, pal.’

‘You’re a dead man.’

‘You said that already. Wishing doesn’t make it so.’

No answer. The call ended. The phone went silent. I pictured the activity, on Little Joey’s end. A minion, dispatched. The battery in one trash can, the phone body in a second can, the SIM card cracked with a thumbnail into four separate pieces, and dumped in a third can. A burner, burned.

On my end I wiped the phone on my shirt and tossed it on the back seat. Casey Nice said, ‘Will he listen? Will he cut them loose?’

I said, ‘I doubt it. Clearly he’s used to getting his own way. Backing down would make his head explode.’

I shoved my Glock deep in my pocket. It fit pretty well, without the competition. Nice watched me and did the same. Smaller pocket, but a smaller gun. I heard its stubby barrel click against her pill bottle.

I said, ‘Keep your pills in your other pocket. You don’t want to get all snagged up.’

She paused a beat. She didn’t want to take the bottle out. She didn’t want to show me.

I said, ‘How many left?’

She said, ‘Two.’

‘You took one this morning?’

She nodded and said nothing.

‘And now you want to take another?’

She nodded and said nothing.

‘Don’t,’ I said.

‘Why not?’

‘They’re the wrong pills. You have no reason to be anxious. You’re performing very well. You’re a natural. You were superb this morning. From the pawn shop onward. All the way to the splinter of glass.’

Which was possibly one sentence too far. I saw her hand move, as if involuntarily, as if cupping itself around the dirty sweater padding the jagged edge. She was reliving the experience. And not liking it. Her eyes closed and her chest started to heave and she burst into tears. Tension, shock, horror, it all came out. She shook and howled. She opened her streaming eyes and looked up, and down, and left, and right. I turned to her and she collapsed against me, and I held her tight, in a strange chaste embrace, still in our separate seats, bent towards each other from our waists. She buried her head in the fold of my shoulder, and her tears soaked my jacket, right where Yevgeniy Khenkin’s brains had been.

Eventually she started breathing slower, and she said, ‘I’m sorry,’ all muffled against my coat.

I said, ‘Don’t be.’

‘I killed a man.’

‘Not really,’ I said. ‘You saved yourself. And me. Think about it like that.’

‘He was still a human being.’

‘Not really,’ I said again. ‘My grandfather once told me a story. He lived in Paris, where he made wooden legs for a living, but he was on vacation in the south of France, sitting on a hillside near a vineyard, eating a picnic, and he had his pocket knife out, to lever open a walnut, and he saw a snake coming towards him, real fast, and he stabbed it with the pocket knife, dead on through the centre of its head, and pinned it to the ground, about six inches from his ankle. That’s the same as you did. The guy was a snake. Or worse than a snake. A snake doesn’t know it’s a snake. It can’t help itself. But that guy knew what he was choosing. Just like the other guy, yesterday, who wasn’t helping old ladies across the street, or volunteering in the library, or raising funds for Africa.’

She rubbed her head against my arm. Nodding agreement, maybe. Or not, perhaps. Maybe just wiping her eyes. She said, ‘Doesn’t make me feel better.’

‘Shoemaker told me you knew what you signed up for.’

‘I did, in theory. Actually doing it feels different.’

‘There’s a first time for everything.’

‘Are you going to tell me it gets easier?’

I didn’t answer. I said, ‘Save the pills. You don’t need them. And even if you do, save them anyway. This is only the beginning. It’s going to get harder later.’

‘That’s hardly reassuring.’

‘You have nothing to worry about. You’re doing well. We’re both doing well. We’re going to win.’

She didn’t answer that. She hung on for a moment longer, and then she eased away from me, and we both retreated to our own spaces, and we sat up straight. She huffed and sniffed and wiped her face with her leather sleeve. She said, ‘Can we go back to the hotel? I want to take a shower.’

I said, ‘We’ll find a new hotel.’

‘Why?’

‘Rule one, change locations every day.’

‘My new toothbrush is still there.’

‘Rule two, keep your toothbrush in your pocket at all times.’

‘I’ll have to buy another.’