‘Hey, Dan. Is that the time? Shit, I’ve been telling the guys a couple of war stories here, forgot all about our little situation.’ He suddenly spots the massive barrels in the middle of his kitchen and claps his hands. ‘You brought me a present.’

I keep on pretending that I’m doing this for the money. ‘You got one for me? Fifty thousand ones.’

Faber drops a huge wink at his boys. ‘Yeah, sure. I got your present right here. Why don’t we just have a look at my pills first?’

I push the caddy towards Faber’s biggest guy and he has to do a nimble little shuffle to save his toes.

‘Knock yourself out.’

Faber has his three guys get to work. One covers me with a pistol, another gives me the brisk-frisk while the third tips a barrel from its perch and pops the security lid. The drum’s mouth glows and the guy’s double chin is swabbed by crescents of blue light.

‘Holy fuck,’ he says. ‘This shit is radioactive.’

Faber digs his arm in deep and lets the pills run through his fingers, like he’s a pirate feeling up his doubloons. This is the point where my what I like to call plan could have been seriously derailed, but I got away with it. It was fifty-fifty and I picked the right fifty.

‘Score,’ he says.

‘Score,’ I say. ‘You like MTV, Jaryd?’

I might as well needle him. We both know what’s coming. At least what he thinks is coming.

Faber opens his mouth to give the word, then has a thought that disturbs him. ‘Where’s Wilbur?’

‘Why’s that, Jaryd? You told him to bring up the rear?’

‘I asked you where Wilbur was.’

I shrug. ‘I don’t know, exactly. Not to the precise inch.’

Faber hurls a handful of pills back into the drum. ‘You prick, McEvoy. He better not be dead.’

‘Or what. You’ll kill me twice?’

The attorney’s grin is sly. ‘Kill you? Why would I want to do that?’

‘Because you better. I know about you and Connie, and I tried the cops once already but it didn’t work. Next time I’m gonna do the job myself.’

Faber acts frustrated. ‘Why are we still talking about that stripper? Screw it. I’m not wasting my time arguing with a dead guy.’

He walks to his laptop, arms swinging to let me know he means business. The guy is going to shock me again. I knew he would, he enjoyed it so much the last times.

‘Why don’t you lie down for a while?’ he says, which sounds rehearsed, and hits return.

The bracelet’s signal is activated, and on cue I fall to the ground gibbering. I feel embarrassed shaking and dribbling like that, but it should buy me a minute.