‘Here’s the deal-a-roo,’ mystery man said as his drumming pen slipped and hit the carpet. ‘O’Banyon will come into your cell tomorrow morning and you’ll cave.’

‘You think?’ Charlie spat.

‘We’ll get you a lawyer. You don’t need a superstar if you’re not going to trial, but I know a lady who’ll fight your corner and cut a deal with the justice department. She’ll big up that you could have used a lot more explosive if you wanted to, that you’re a good little orphan kiddie who looks after her retarded brother, and lives under a lot of emotional stress, yada, yada.

‘The Clark County attorney’s office will want a high-profile case like this tied up fast and neat. If you play ball, they’ll settle for an assault beef. Your plea will be three to five years, and if you behave, you’ll be out in two.’

Charlie looked suspicious. ‘Is what you’re saying now any more reliable than when you told me JJ was about to confess?’

‘It’s a plea bargain,’ he explained. ‘It’s how ninety-five per cent of criminal cases get settled in this country. Say nothing to O’Banyon until I get that lawyer in the room with you. There will be a tussle over your sentence and exact wording of your confession. Then it will get rubber stamped by a judge.’

‘Just a few years of my life, eh?’ Charlie said airily. ‘How do you sleep at night?’

Mystery man laughed. ‘I sleep soundly, on a mattress stuffed with hundred-dollar bills.’

‘Money …’ Charlie said, shaking her head. ‘What if I don’t cave? What if I happen to have some principles?’

‘You seem fond of that brother. I’m sure me and a pal could pay him a visit.’

Charlie put her leg down and shot forward in the chair. ‘Leave Ed the hell alone.’

‘Or what?’ he teased as he stood and moved round the desk. ‘You’ll come get me, Charlie? Do you think that drooling gimp brother of yours will squeal like a piggy when I tenderise his face with this diamond ring on my big ol’ fist?’

Charlie shuddered as he loomed behind, planting a hairy hand on each shoulder.

‘You’re sweating through that overall,’ mystery man noticed as his stale breath hit her face. ‘It’s not leaving much to my imagination.’

Charlie felt sick as the hands slid to the base of her neck, two fingers putting a slight squeeze on her windpipe.

‘Are you going to make this harder than it has to be, Charlie girl?’

She wanted to bite or fight. She wanted to be the mighty hero, like the white-grin tweens in the Disney shows she watched with Ed. But the mystery man’s wrists were as broad as her neck and Charlie had a head for numbers.

One of me against Janssen’s whole organisation.