She repeated, fixated on the false truth.

They turned, rather he did, she had no choice but to follow the motion of his arms, and then back to the car with the hope of the Fendi bag within.

The bag was burnt through with a hole and no blood. Browned at the edges. It occurred even at that moment that that was a strange thing. Perhaps the brown was dried blood.

He opened it and there was her phone, positioned alongside her gun. Both were inert and incapable. Dependant on operation: the constitutional defence.

‘It’s here, thank God, it’s here.’

‘No, but I told him I had left it.’

There was confusion, he just felt relief.

‘We have it. We’ve got it.’

He was now, at as fast a pace as he could manage, heading back to the Isis.

‘We need to phone Manita.’

‘Where are we?’

‘Manita.’

The conversation was bullet point, appropriate term, just the words that needed to go in. Like the bullet.

‘I will.’

They burst through the confines of the alley and emerged facing the Isis Adelphia Hotel. On the other side of the street. They went through the beaded curtains, he had now released her from his grip and was supporting her with his arm around her waist. The beads made their xylophonic ripple of warning and a lady came out from behind another set of multi-coloured beads to take up position behind a desk. She was Chinese. So was the desk, with the ornate carving of dragons forming the base.

‘Do you have room?’

‘A room?’

‘Yes.’

‘One or two?’

She said taking in Lomita.

‘One is fine.’

‘How many night?’

‘Wait a second please.’

Lomita was now sitting on the one chair in the lobby. A bamboo rocker. He presumed unless there was interest in a room she would not be allowed to continue this small luxury. He spoke close to her ear.

‘Call Manita and tell her to come and get us.’

‘And we’ll go to Mexico.’

Added Lomita. She took out her phone and dialled Manita; she could see the face of the Chinese woman looking at her, waiting for the answer of how many nights.

She couldn’t think.

‘Just the one room. One night.’

Confirmed Ever.

He passed a hundred-dollar bill across the desk.

‘A hundred-twenty-five dollar.’

Came the response, he dug for further money, hearing the muffled sound of a phone ringing and being answered.

‘Hola Manita, escucha atentamente y cuidadosamente. Vamos a México. Solo empaca las cosas médicas y ven a recogernos. Ever está conmigo. Ven rápido por favor. Where are we?’

She put her hand over the phone to speak to Ever, although it wasn’t a secret. Ever lent into her ear and told her.

‘En la esquina de 8th Street y South Union Street. El hotel se llama la Isis de Adelphia. ¿Adelphia con ‘ph’?’

‘Yes.’

Said Ever, surprised at his subliminal understanding of the language.