'I want you to tell me who you are and how you wound up here. And I want the truth. No lies. Believe me, if you lie to me, I will know. And I will hurt you. Understand?'
'Yeah, I understand.'
'Good. Now go ahead. But don't go raising your voice. We don't want anyone eavesdropping on our conversation, do we?'
Telfer glanced at the wall behind him. Like most hotel walls, these were about as porous as a sponge. He couldn't be sure if anyone was in residence next door, and he couldn't take the chance that their conversation would be overheard. A bit of a strange notion, considering that a psycho was holding him at gunpoint. He looked back at the man and saw a faint smile playing about his lips. He seemed amused, as though he knew that Telfer could not shout for help.
'My name isn't Ambrose,' he began.
'I know that. So what is it? Your real name?'
'John.'
'Mmm.'
'Honestly. My name's John Telfer.'
The man nodded as though he was confirming something he already knew.
'I'm from England.'
'We've already established that.' Again the nod of the head, the amused smile.
'I came here on a work permit,' Telfer said.
'That has since run out?'
It was Telfer's turn to nod. 'I haven't been able to get a full visa yet.'
The man nodded. 'You and a couple million others.'
'So,' Telfer said, 'I've had to move on. If I stayed put, I'd have been deported back home.'
The man watched him steadily for more than half a dozen heartbeats. Then he moved closer, pushing the gun down in the waistband of his trousers. He took out the curved knife and held it below Telfer's nose. Telfer edged back from it, the cords in his neck tightening.
'I told you not to lie.' The man placed the blade so that it lay flat on Telfer's cheek, the point millimeters from his right eye. 'That also includes half-truths. Now I don't doubt that you have no visa, but that's not the reason you're running. I want the full truth. Take this as your last warning.' He turned the blade on its edge and sliced through the flesh. Not a deep cut, just enough to part the outer dermis. Still, blood flowed warm down Telfer's face to pool at the corner of his mouth.
'Jesus,' Telfer hissed.
'Hurts like a bugger, doesn't it?' said the madman. 'But you know that's just the start, Johnny boy. No more lies?'
'No more lies,' Telfer echoed.
The man retreated a couple of steps, wiped the tip of the knife on Telfer's knee. He placed the knife back in his trouser pocket. Then the gun was back in his hand and pointed at Telfer's face.
'I've done something wrong,' Telfer began.
The man nodded, sitting on a corner of the coffee table.
'I'm on the run.'
'Also already established. Get on with it.'
Telfer twisted his mouth into a knot. He didn't want the knife coming out again. 'I stole something.'
'Yes,' said the man.
'I'm not a thief,' Telfer began.
'Oh? What about my car? My knife?'
Telfer shook his head. 'Okay. But I'm not
'You're not? You do a good impression of one.'
'Until four weeks ago, I never stole a thing in my life.' Telfer stopped. He knew he was lying to himself. There was the small matter of the money his brother Joe had given him to clear off a debt. Money he'd immediately lost on another hopeless bet. In one sense that did make him a thief. Then there was the matter of Jennifer and the kids. He'd stolen their hearts. Broken them into little pieces and snatched a random handful that could never be returned.
'What are you crying for?'
'Uh?'
'You're crying,' the man pointed out. 'Was this theft so dreadful that it brings you to tears?'
Telfer sniffed. 'No. Not the theft.'
'Oh. I see. There's more to it than that? Go on. Tell me.'
'I have a wife and kids.'
The man nodded slowly. A shadow passed behind his features. 'Haven't we all?'
'I wronged them,' Telfer went on. 'I wanted to make things right for them again.'
