‘You send them away? That’s … an elegant solution,’ said Bloom.

‘And then what happens to them?’ said Jameson.

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Seraphine. ‘We don’t want or need to know what happens to them.’

‘But they’re people like you,’ said Jameson.

Seraphine’s expression flashed with disgust. ‘Absolutely not.’ She reached under her chair and Jameson heard the tear of tape being removed.

He looked at Bloom and Bloom looked back at him. Her eyes were expressionless. He was on his own here. And there were six of them. He didn’t want to die. Not here. Not like this. It was insulting and pathetic. He closed his eyes and told himself to man the fuck up. When he opened them, Seraphine had placed a small tin the size of a pencil case on her lap. She took out a syringe and a vial of clear liquid.

‘I suppose there’s no point promising to keep quiet,’ he said.

Seraphine’s lips curled as she filled the syringe from the vial. She held it up to the light and flicked it twice with her index finger.

He thought about offering to join forces with them. He had skills. He could offer something of value. But he couldn’t do it. ‘At least tell me what that is.’

‘It is the most logical course of action, Marcus,’ said Bloom. She turned to Seraphine. ‘I expect this thing only works if no one knows what’s going on. The general public need to be oblivious to who we really are and what we’re doing. So we can’t have a witness walk away with this knowledge.’

‘Indeed,’ said Seraphine. She pulled her chair close to Jameson’s and with one hand began to roll up his right shirt sleeve. ‘Certainly not one with all those government contacts.’

It was pointless trying to move his arm away. The ropes were too tight. ‘Why the calling cards? Surely that risks exposing all of this?’

Seraphine’s brow furrowed. ‘It was a risk, yes, but a temporary one.’

‘The cards were for me,’ said Bloom. ‘So I’d try to solve the mystery.’

Seraphine pushed his shirt sleeve higher. His injured elbow protested. She twisted his forearm to get to the veins. A groan passed through his gritted teeth.

Seraphine stopped and met his gaze. ‘I can use the other arm if you prefer.’ Her tone was caring, a doctor looking after her patient.

He said nothing. He was not going to discuss with her which arm she should use to kill him.

After a beat she shrugged and gave his forearm a firm twist.

Shards of pain radiated from his elbow straight into his brain. He swore loudly.