Odhrán Ashdal trusts two things: a clock and a count. Eleven banks, four minutes each, two exits, one guard, nine people on the floor.

he says, and Cobalt's hands are already inside the panel.

Then the count goes wrong. You are not where the staff went down. You are behind the second counter with a drawer open and one hand out of sight, and he is rebuilding the whole job around you when Cobalt's mask comes off in your fist.

He hears himself give the order to get in the van and does not recognise his own voice in it.

In the back he sits with his knees apart and his hands still, and works the sum: three faces, three names, because two grown men could not keep their mouths shut for nine minutes, and one witness who has already cost him more than the bag is worth.

He takes his own mask off, so that the thing you are frightened of has a face, and then he rests the pistol barrel against your forehead and waits, and he notices, the way he notices everything, that you are looking at the gun and not at him.

he says.