Nowak gave a shout and somewhere in the darkness an engine began to roar. The noise was followed by the bright beam of headlights flooding the room, and Jia raised her hand against the glare. Through squinting eyes she made out five heavy black Range Rovers, and sitting on the ground in front of them, the outline of her brother. He was holding his hand in front of his face to shield his eyes from the light. She heard Michael’s gasp before she could see for herself, but as her eyes came into focus and she stepped closer to her baby brother, all feeling left her limbs.

Marks from tyre treads were embedded into the right side of his face. His black hair, usually straight and gelled back, was caked in congealed black blood. Lacerations ran across his cheeks, and his eyes – his beautiful brown, soulful eyes – were swollen to the size of small plums.

Nowak laughed, soaking up Jia’s shock and horror. His entire body twitched with anticipation of her anguish. But she didn’t flinch. She just stood there silently, loyal to the tendrils of cold hatred that were spreading deeper within her. Insidious, slow and powerful, they wrapped themselves around her legs and feet, driving deep into the ground, rooting her and strengthening her will to kill him. It was an intoxicating sensation; she had felt it fleetingly once before. This time it was stronger, purer, more sustained. There was no denying her destiny. There was nothing left to fear. It was everyone else who should be afraid.

She glanced down at her right hand and noted its paleness. She flexed and clenched it into a fist to bring the blood flow back. She spoke the words, ‘Michael, bring the car,’ her voice steady and distant. Michael hurried away up the ramp.

From the corner of her eye she could see Nowak’s face fixed in its cruelty, and she knew he was waiting for an outpouring of rage. In his position she would have done the same. She turned to face him, taking him in, piece by piece. ‘Thank you for your hospitality,’ she said. ‘You have been most gracious.’ There was no trace of irony, just simple words strung together, and with them she robbed Nowak of his victory.

She saw his eyes flash and narrow, and the vein in his neck throbbed until almost blue. This momentary lack of composure was enough to prove to Jia that she’d rattled him. ‘Let us conclude our business now, Mr Nowak, as agreed,’ she said, holding up the box of mithai she had brought with her.

Her coolness snapped Nowak back. ‘As agreed,’ he repeated. ‘Fly back to your nest. Make sure the others understand that this is our territory – and we will not steal your young.’