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minor matter. You’ll probably get ten years, out in six if you behave yourself.”
    I was shocked. The notion of being banged up for six years with a bunch of women didn’t bear thinking about. I had done pretty well with my Thai kick-boxing classes but they would probably still make me their shower bitch and bum-rape me with a dildo they had fabricated in the prison wood-shop.
    “You think that is good news?” I said mournfully.
    “Well it’s better than going down for life.”
    “That’s like saying drinking toilet water is better than drinking bleach.”
    “Quite.”
    “Will I get bail?” I asked hopeful that I could book a charter jet and live on the hoof in South America.
    “Down to the judge,” he replied.
    “And what about Johnny?”
    “Yes,” he said. “There’s someone here to talk to you about that. Well good luck.”
    The detective got up and left. I waited what must have been ten minutes when a man entered the interview room. He looked at me briefly then walked over to the wall, reached up and pushed the security camera to face away from the interview table. 
    ‘ Here we go ’ I thought, he’s probably going to do something untoward. Since I had mentioned Johnny they would suicide me.
    He sat down calmly and put an evidence bag on the table containing my Beretta then took out a packet of cigarettes and lit one, which I considered unusual because the whole police station was no-smoking. He offered me the packet. I don’t usually smoke but in the light of the situation it seemed pointless worrying about ones long-term health. After all he would probably kill me as soon as I finished smoking it. 
     
    That’s what they do. 
     
    Give you something nice to cheer you up and then kill you. 
     
    He lit the cigarette for me. He still hadn’t spoken but was looking me square in the eyes. He had beautiful blue eyes and incredibly long eyelashes. They were quite hypnotic - like the gaze a tiger gives a deer it can’t be bothered to catch and eat for lunch. He was handsome in a rugged Irish alpha male sort of way, dressed in a casual long jacket and jeans. He didn’t look like a policeman. He was too handsome. I didn’t know quite what to make of him but I rather fancied him.
    “What can you tell me about Johnny van Sant?” he asked. 
    He was clearly a university grad but had a light hint of a scottish accent.
    “He’s a very naughty boy,” I replied. He smiled. I smiled back. “You find that amusing?”
    “Just the way you say naughty.”
    “Naughty?” I said and gave him an alluring smile. “You like the word naughty ? Well maybe…..you are a very naughty boy,” I cooed seductively.
    He clearly wasn’t a mere detective minion so it did no harm to ply this handsome stranger with some charm.
    “Well maybe. But I think you are probably a very naughty girl,” he replied. 
    I laughed.
    “Oh you have no idea .” 
    “Hmmm,” he said as he toyed the gun. “This gun has a very interesting history,” he told me, which of course I already knew as I had written most of it. “I’d like you too tell me what you know about it?” he asked. He had a very disarming way of speaking slowly with pauses, like he was undressing you with his words. “Would you like to do that?” he asked suggestively.
    “I don’t know,” I replied curious as to his intentions. “What’s in it for me?”
    “Well,” he paused and drew breath slowly as if getting ready to kiss me passionately and at length. “You’re in a lot of trouble right now, and I’m guessing you could probably use all the help you can get.”
    “And what sort of help would that be?” I asked suspiciously.
    “That depends on you,” he replied.
    “Mmm,” I replied.  “Well. Johnny gave me this gun, and Johnny works…claims to work for MI6.”
    “Does he now. That’s very interesting.”
    “Is it?”
    “And why would Johnny give you a gun I wonder?”
    “Maybe he thinks I need protection.”
    “From whom?”
    I