Assuming that he had Clan members close by, I wasted no time. To the right there was an oak table. It wasn’t huge but it might buy me some time. I grabbed the edge of it and tipped it so it fell heavily against the door. For good measure, I also gave the lock a hefty kick, splintering it to help jam it. It was a move Taylor had me practise for weeks on end until I’d got it right – goodness knows how many doors we’d gone through. He’d insisted that it was important in case I ever found myself cornered during a heist and needed some breathing space to work out an escape route. At the time, I’d stubbornly declared that I’d never approach a job without having numerous escape routes and I’d never be stupid enough to let myself get cornered. Now I was seriously grateful for that training.

Unfortunately my preoccupation with the door gave the Bull time to attack. He came at me from behind, swinging a heavy sword. I heard the whisper as it flew through the air and just managed to duck in time, leaping away a heartbeat afterwards. He didn’t manage to hit me but there was an odd buzzing in my ear that didn’t sound right. I shook my head in a bid to clear it and focused on the Bull.

‘Now that’s a weapon,’ I said. I showed him my bare palms. ‘I’m not here to fight though. In fact, I’m a pacifist. I don’t do violence.’

‘Oh yeah?’ he sneered. ‘Then what’s that in your pocket?’

Rather than take my eyes off him, I raised one hand to check. It was Bob’s sodding letter opener. No doubt he’d come along for the ride in the hope that the mess created by my first wish would make me ask for a second.

‘This is a letter opener,’ I told the Bull. Screw Bob’s delicate ego. ‘It’s not much good for anything. I keep it handy for urgent letters. I’d forgotten I had it.’

There were several shouts from the other side of the door, followed by a series of loud thumps. The Bull bared his teeth. ‘You’ve got about five minutes before you’re surrounded. Whatever you’re going to do, you’d better do it fast,’ he said.

He swung the sword again, his muscles straining. Sadly for him, he’d clearly fallen out of shape over the last twenty years and those muscles were encased in far too much fat. He’d made the classic error of using a weapon that was too unwieldy for him to manage. It was easy to avoid his blow and scoot to the other side of the room.