“What exactly do you want me to do in Revere?”

“You’re going to save a girl’s life,” Samantha said with a cough.

“What?”

“The IRA is going to try to kill her father, and you’re going to save her,” she said, looking at the floor.

“That sounds bloody risky to start with.”

“Not really. Look, Michael, we need you. We had one other person in mind but…” her voice trailed off.

“Let me guess. He’s turned you down,” I said.

“Well, yes. That’s why this whole Spanish angle has been particularly fortuitous for us. You know, not everyone agrees with me, I’m taking a bit of a risk flying here to see you. There are some within the department who don’t agree with the idea of recruiting outsiders. Especially a potential loose cannon such as yourself.”

I was fed up with her now and I’d thought about it enough.

“While I really appreciate the faith you have in me, Samantha, thanks but no thanks. Now I think I’ve been pretty polite with you; if you would do me a favor and tell your pal in the Foreign Office that I still haven’t seen a lawyer and could they please arrange for me to see one ASAP I’d be much obliged.”

She looked disappointed.

“A lawyer?”

“Aye. I want to plead and get this shit over with.”

Samantha frowned, undid her ponytail, and let the hair hang down her back. She started doing her hair up again, glancing at me with what could almost be described as pity.

“Michael, obviously I haven’t made the entire situation transparent. You’re caught between a rock and a hard place. The Spanish government will see to it that you go to jail. And what’s more, when your time is up, the Spaniards will extradite you to Mexico, where I believe you are a fugitive from justice.”

That was her trump card. The one she’d been saving.

I sat up on the bed. Horrified.

I’d been arrested in Mexico on a charge of drug smuggling but I’d escaped from the remand prison before I’d come to trial. I could be looking at twenty years there for the drugs, plus God knows how much for bloody jailbreaking.