The small room to the side door of the building contained the toilets. As Zara’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness, she managed to find the handle and squeezed inside. Then she pulled her phone from her pocket. She had to hide any light just for the moment in case she was being watched. She looked at the time: it was now eight o’clock. Her hand shook, and her heart was punching her in the chest. Get a grip, Zara, she told herself. Victor should be here in thirty minutes. She wouldn’t be alone.

As her body moved rhythmically, with each forceful pump of her blood pulsing around her body, she went over and over in her mind every move she would make. Yet she couldn’t be 100 per cent sure that the man she believed to be the Governor would turn up. Her two voices in her head were at it again: one was cautioning her by saying What if?, the other was saying Greed is a prime motivator. Suddenly, the text came through; it was the one message she was hoping for. Joshua was on his way, so the deal was going ahead. She waited silently, listening with her ears pricked, but there was not a sound.

For half an hour, she waited patiently, praying that Victor would get here soon. She’d remembered telling him that Joshua would arrive at nine o’clock, so she needed Victor here by eight thirty. He had to be here before Joshua, or she would be on her own. She looked at the phone again; it was now ten to nine. ‘Come on, Victor. Hurry up, please,’ she whispered.

Then she heard a car.

She crept out from the toilet and hid behind a steel pillar and looked to see who it was. Christ, it was Joshua. He’d arrived early. Damn! ‘Now, Victor, where are you?’ she whispered again.

She watched as the silver BMW reversed into her hangar and stopped. She thought he’d clocked her before she’d taken up a position behind the girder. Shaking now from head to toe, she took a deep breath. She needed to pull herself together; this was ridiculous, and yet the stories she’d heard about this evil, sadistic bastard that everyone called the Governor plagued her mind.

Worst of all, he was expected to be in her company – right under her nose.

She looked on as the tall, solidly built man stepped out of the car. Even in the dark, she could see he was striking, in his long black coat and with his dark hair combed back. She studied him as he pulled on a pair of black leather gloves, straightened his coat, and walked with long strides to the back of his car.

‘I can see you, Zara!’