‘This isn’t about Sofia.’ I surprised myself with how firmly I stuck up for her, seeing as she was hiding something worth fifty thousand dollars, after all.

‘It’s not. But I’m just trying to explain something. I held Alan’s life in my hands and I weighed up what it was worth. And what it was worth for me to put an end to it.’

‘You decided your own life was more important than Alan’s.’ I’d figured out Michael wasn’t telling me some big secret, he was only telling me what he’d told himself enough times so he could live with it. He was trying to tell me that Alan’s death was worth it. There was nothing new here. I made up my mind, shook my head. I gave up. ‘You can have the money. I brought the bag.’

‘No. Not, like, money, or anything, but the cost. It’s a strange feeling to know what a life is worth. That’s all I’m saying.’ He looked pensive for a second, realising he hadn’t won me over. His eyes reflected the glow of the heat lamp in a kind of wicked glint. It sort of sounded like a threat. Like he was telling me he’d weighed one life against the bag of money already, and he’d have no hesitation in valuing my life against it too. I don’t know if it was my imagination or not, but the grey wall of snow against the window suddenly felt very oppressive. I pictured the building storm outside, the weight of it pressing harder against the glass, like it might at any moment spew into the room and bury us. Then he said, ‘It’s an even stranger thing to realise that you got it wrong.’

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to tell me he was unhappy with the price he’d received, or the price he’d paid and I told him that, though, admittedly, less eloquently than I’ve made it sound here.

‘I’m trying to tell you I’ve learned from my mistakes, that I’ll never choose violence again. And you still think this is about the money?’ Michael said.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘The money’s not . . . Look, it should have been our money in the first place, okay? We died for it. It’s right for them to pay.’

Our money. There it was again. But who was the other part of we? A Cunningham? I opened my mouth to ask another question, but the roulette wheel in my head stopped spinning on a thought.