WALID was furious with himself for giving Chris too many pills. His mate was no longer being a chicken shit, but the sweat was just as bad. Maybe worse. Chris was soaked in his own perspiration by the time they reached the intersection. All the lengths they had gone to to blend in, and now he was wringing wet. Standing out like dog’s balls. And as if the sweat wasn’t bad enough, Chris began twitching, his head repeatedly jerking to the left as they crossed the wide city street that led to the park in front of the church.

Officially it was called a cathedral, but Chris called it a church. Cathedrals were supposed to have spires and gargoyles. Not a crystal crucifix.

A healthy crowd had gathered. Walid hoped Chris would not be freaked out by all the news crews and their cameras.

JAX saw the blade first: four inches long and stainless steel. Razor sharp. It was no prison-made shiv, but a hunting knife. And the man holding it was a hunter.

Jax had just had time to leap from the bed and position himself on the wall adjacent to the outward-opening door after the electronic mechanism had alerted him to the intruder. He realised he was still holding his phone as the hand holding the knife followed the blade into the cell. He sure was glad he’d turned it off.

Then his stomach dropped as he sensed a familiar scent. No. Surely not. But it was. As with sights and sounds, Jax did not forget smells. The overpowering cologne was unmistakable; it even swamped the smell of the freshly bleached floor.

Jax held himself hard against the wall, completely still. It was pitch dark and he had the advantage of surprise: no doubt the intruder was expecting him to be asleep, an easy kill. It would take him a moment or two to realise that Jax was not in his cot, and a moment was all Jax needed.

Yet he had to hold fire, resist the urge to strike, make sure the intruder was in front of him so he could attack his back. He didn’t know if the man could use the knife and he didn’t want to find out.

Jax held his breath as the intruder took another step and he momentarily closed his eyes, somehow thinking it would make him invisible should the intruder decide to look anywhere other than straight at the bed. Don’t look left. Don’t look left. Then he heaved a deep, silent breath, opened his eyes and prepared to spring forward. What the—?

The intruder was gone. Vanished.