It gives me the crucial few seconds I need. I crawl beneath two desks and open my bag. I chuck the pillow across the floor. The plastic tub lid follows. The markers on the timer settle into focus. I’m ready to wind the dial clockwise again, buying time to disconnect the detonator wires.

I stop myself. There’s no need.

It takes a second to digest what I see. The timer is already at zero. Its countdown must’ve been completed while I was trying to clear the room. Perhaps before I even arrived. But it doesn’t matter now. Because it didn’t fire. For weeks, this has been my worst fear. Now it seems a triumph of luck. There were several detonator failures during development, but I thought I’d solved the problem. Perhaps the camera battery went flat; perhaps there’s a poor connection. Even the entire device could be a dud, although that’s highly unlikely. I’m not about to investigate.

A loafered foot is planted in the middle of my back. I brace myself against the desk leg as I’m shoved forward. There’s no time to wallow in relief now. I pull my hand from the timer. I re-cover the tub, replace the pillow.

Nate crouches so his head is level with me. ‘You’re still getting a beating tonight, Morcombe,’ he tells me. ‘Don’t think we’ve forgotten. Hide under that desk all you fucking like. When you step out of here today, we’re gonna have you.’

Dragging my closed-up bag with me, I back away, slowly rising to my full height on the opposite side of the desk.

‘I’m gonna beat the living shit out of you,’ Nate says, reiterating his threat for the benefit of the entire room.

‘Leave him alone, Nate,’ Lei Pang says. ‘Look how upset he is. Don’t you think you’ve given him enough shit?’

‘I reckon you’re even now,’ Amit adds.

‘Shut up, you pair of pussies,’ Nate snarls.

‘What’s in the bag, Morcombe?’ Dimi Kyrkos asks. ‘That’s the second time today I’ve seen you playing about with it under your desk.’

I’m holding it with both hands. I try to ease my grip, appear casual. If anything, my reaction fuels their intrigue.

‘Bought a weapon, have you?’ Joey says. ‘Armed for the showdown?’

‘No,’ I snap. Too fast. Too defensive.

‘You fucking have, haven’t you?’ His eyes glow with excitement.

I should just toss the bag to the floor, front this out. But the device is still on a hair trigger. Sudden shocks were always at risk of setting it off. And now, the detonator energized, it’s more unstable than ever. I dig my fingernails into the material of the bag as I edge a step nearer the door.

‘Let’s see what you’ve got, darling,’ Joey says, his nose almost touching mine.