‘I don’t think so,’ he said, smiling disingenuously. ‘And if you could keep your hands where I can see them and stay out of striking range, which I presume to be considerable in your case, we’ll be cool.’

He took a step back into the corridor, allowing her a better view of two security guards flanking him, both with their own handguns drawn and pointed none too steadily at her head. One of them moved towards her, reaching for a set of handcuffs.

‘Whoa. I really wouldn’t do that if I was you, Sam,’ said McCutcheon. ‘You don’t want to get too close to her.’

Damn.

The Governor’s main man grinned as though he’d just played the winning card. ‘Gee, this is a surprise, isn’t it? The international super-spy gets her ass handed to her by a bunch of hicks. Embarrassing much?’

‘A bit. But how?’ she asked. ‘Surely not the clowns you had monitoring my room back in Temple?’

She had her hands up, and the night-vision goggles pushed back on her head. One of only two advantages she held at that moment. Another second and she would’ve fitted the NVGs, blinding herself when McCutcheon had thrown open the door and flooded the room with light.

He laughed. ‘No. Rest assured, your surveillance shift is still listening to whoever you put in your room. I checked in with them earlier. She snores, which you don’t. Those boys are probably jerkin’ their gherkins right now while they tell each other exactly how many ways they’d fuck you from Sunday.’

‘Nice to know I still got it,’ said Caitlin.

‘Oh, you got it, baby. And I want it. Now hand it over.’

He pointed his gun at her phone.

‘Just lay it on the floor and step away.’

‘You didn’t tell me how you blew my cover, Ty. You know, in the movies the super-villain has the decency to explain that sort of thing.’

She crouched down and laid the cell at her feet, before backing away. McCutcheon sent one of the security guards through to collect it while keeping his gun aimed at the centre of her face.

‘I’m more of a senior henchmen than your actual super-villain,’ he replied. ‘But for what it’s worth, you can blame your husband. Well, if you ever get to see him again.’

‘Bret?’

‘Oh, don’t be too hard on old Melly. He meant well. He loves you, and he’s very proud of you. That’s why he sent a wedding photo to an old army buddy of mine, a Ranger too, who forwarded it to their regimental association, who then published it in their newsletter. Their electronic newsletter.’

She closed her eyes.