his hands cuffed behind his back and wore a distinctive black mask covering most of his face.

“What the hell? Is this guy Hannibal Lecter?”

“We’re not sure why they use the mask or why he’s taken out for exercise alone. There’s nothing in the file.”

Arthur pulled a face. “You got your guy to be the cellmate of that?”

“He knows the risks. We’re hoping that once Mr Breida understands the plan, he’ll be cooperative.”

“I hope you’re right. I wouldn’t want to be trapped in a cell with that dude if he’s feeling uncooperative. How long has he got left?”

“Only eighteen months,” said Dionne.

“Why are they going to the trouble of busting him out, then?”

“We don’t know.”

“And, with all due respect, why are they coming to a bunch of nuns to get it done?”

Dionne looked uncomfortable. “We don’t know that either. And, yes, we have discussed it extensively. Our best guess is whoever wants him back wants it done without anyone in their own organisation knowing about it. Blackmailing us – well, we have a certain reputation with certain organisations, particularly in Mexico. My guess is that they see the Sisters of the Saint as something their opponents will never see coming, and we won’t be traceable back to them should we fail.”

“So, you want me to help you bust some drug kingpin’s pet psycho out of prison? You really aren’t your typical religious order.” Arthur laughed.

Something flashed behind Sister Dionne’s eyes. He caught it for just a second before the calm demeanour slipped back into place. “We are an organisation that, shall we say, is proactive in solving issues. We believe in trying to defend the innocent with a lot more than thoughts and prayer. Go ahead and dismiss us, but remind me – where were you this morning? We found you, we rescued you from the clutches of … How many bikers was it? And we did so using just one of our operatives. If you’d like to be another arrogant man underestimating us, then understand you will be joining a long line of those who did the same and paid the price.”

Arthur was starting to feel an awful lot like an asshole. “OK, look – I mean no disrespect. Hey, I made a career out of being underestimated too.”

“Yes,” said Dionne. “Your career.” She held up the other folder. “I presume this will have occurred to you, but if it hadn’t been for your repeated attempts to get out of prison you would have been out, free and clear, six years ago.”

It was Arthur’s turn to show irritation. “No kidding? I hadn’t realised that.”

“How would you like a fresh start?”

“Sure. And a pony, too.”

Dionne stepped forward and dropped the second folder on the couch beside Arthur. “Open it.”

He did.

Arthur whistled as he examined its contents.

“That’s a new passport,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And all the back-up paperwork.”

“Everything you need to become a completely different person, right down to a comprehensive backstory. So if someone were to go snooping, it would hold up to all but the most rigorous of checks. Just don’t piss anyone off too much, and you’ll live a long and happy life as Mr Martin Fitz from Maryland.”

Arthur looked at the passport. The picture was him, but looked like his last mugshot. It’d been altered to look as if he hadn’t just been apprehended after being chased by thirty US marshals through an airport before trying unsuccessfully to hide in a fountain.

He ran his finger over it. “I’ve got to say, this is the most impressive fake I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s because it isn’t one,” said Dionne. “That is a one hundred percent genuine US passport. Like I said, we have certain connections.”

“No kidding.”

“Mr Faser, this organisation has been helping people to disappear since long before either of us was born. You can doubt us if you want, but” – she pointed at the screen behind her that had shown live feeds from a high security prison and then down at the perfect passport he held – “you have seen what we can do. Help us, and we’ll drop you anywhere you want with ten thousand dollars in cash and a new life. We wouldn’t normally do it for people such as yourself, but you are useful to us and, well, seeing as you should now be in prison for breaking out of prison, we’ve decided we’re OK with that moral compromise.”

“That’s big of you, Sister. Not sure you can throw stones, seeing as you’re working for the cartels.” Arthur regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. This time the anger stayed in Dionne’s eyes longer.

“If I wanted a lesson in morality, Mr Faser, I’m not sure you’d be the first person I’d call.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “No offence. I’m in no position to judge. How long do we have to make this happen?”

“Three months.”

Arthur whistled. “That isn’t much time.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“And if I can’t make it happen?”

“Then we hand you over to the authorities. Anonymously, of course.”

Arthur looked around the room for a moment. “I’m going to guess that I didn’t really fall asleep on my way here.”

Dionne smiled. “You see, it’s that kind of finely honed instinct that we need.”

Arthur shook his head. “Given drugged water by a nun. You can’t trust anybody these days.”

“Actually,” said Dionne, “you can. Do what we say and I guarantee you we’ll keep up our end of the deal. But try to screw us over and trust me, you’ll regret it. Do we have a deal?”

Arthur shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

Dionne held out her hand and Arthur went to shake it.

“The file, Mr Faser.”

“Oh, sorry. Sure.”

He handed it back to her.

“And the passport you accidentally palmed under your left leg.”

“You saw that?”

“I did, Mr Faser.”

He handed it back. “If we’re going to be working together, you should really call me Arthur.”

“We won’t be working together,” said Dionne, slipping the passport back into the folder and turning on her heel to the door from which she’d appeared. “Sister Teresa

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