The female FBI agent I’d encountered months ago met me in the washrooms at McCarran airport, Las Vegas, to fit me with my wire.

‘Hi, Sky. Anya Kowalski. Remember me?’ she asked, getting out her kit.

‘Yes, of course.’

She smiled at me in the mirror, her sleek brown hair glowing in the spotlights. ‘We appreciate what you’re doing for us.’

‘Can you hurry, please? Sally might come looking for me any moment now.’

She grinned at my worried reflection. ‘That’s not likely. She’s being interviewed by a local reporter on her views on airport standards. He’s not letting her get away.’

‘And he is?’

‘One of our men.’ She slipped a tiny microphone into the elastic of my bra. ‘That should do it. Try not to cover up too much and remember not to bash it with anything—purse, whatever—as it gives our listening post a nasty headache.’

‘OK. That’s it? No battery or wire?’

‘Nope. It’s got its own little power pack and will run for about twenty-four hours. No wires to give it away.’

‘But it emits a signal, right?’

‘Yes, it transmits sound. What you hear, we hear.’

‘Can anyone tell?’

‘Theoretically. But only if they have the inside track on FBI frequencies. We’ve not had a problem before.’

‘But if Daniel Kelly has got this information from one of you already?’

She grimaced. ‘Then the proverbial hits the fan. But we’ll get you and your parents out, don’t worry.’

Sally was preening when I returned to her side.

‘That young man was really interested in my views,’ she said. ‘He said he totally agreed that the airport was bland and could do with some more challenging artworks—maybe a Damien Hirst cow or diamond skull—this is Vegas, after all.’

‘Why not go the whole hog and have the Emin bed?’ grumbled Simon, who didn’t think highly of installation works. ‘Most people bumming about airports look as though they could do with a good sleep.’

‘I should have thought of that.’ Sally winked at me.

‘I think one of Dali’s melting clock faces is more appropriate—time seems like fudge for international travellers,’ I suggested.

My parents stopped and stared at me in amazement.

‘What?’ I asked, embarrassed.

‘You understand art!’ Sally gasped.

‘Yeah, so?’

Simon laughed with delight. ‘All these years and I thought it wasn’t rubbing off on her!’ He gave me a smacking kiss.

‘I’m still not going to go splash paint on unsuspecting canvases,’ I mumbled, pleased I’d given them something to celebrate. I felt bad enough about letting them walk into this blind.

‘We wouldn’t expect you to. In fact, I think I’d forbid you to try. Imagine having another scatty artist in the family!’

Simon linked his arms in mine and Sally’s and waltzed us out of the airport to the waiting car.

Sliding into the back seat, the reality of what was happening rushed back. It wasn’t the same vehicle I’d been carried in to the warehouse—just an innocuous hotel shuttle to the airport—but I still felt a chill run up my spine.

Zed?

It’s OK, Sky. Victor and I are two cars behind. We’ll drop back and pass the tail over to another agent in a moment, but we won’t lose you.

Is it OK to talk like this?

Until you reach the hotel. We’re guessing Maria Kelly is the surviving shield expert so we mustn’t take risks.

Tell me again, how much do I have to get for the FBI to move in?

We need them to admit to involvement in the kidnapping or to do something illegal on this trip, like try to falsify your memories—that’s the most likely. An added bonus would be any sight or sound of the two Kelly escapees.

How do I get them to do that? It seemed far more difficult now I had to execute the strategy I’d only thought about in the abstract.

They’ve set things up to bring you here so they must have a plan. Go along with things as far as you can. We’re guessing they’re going to try and separate you from Sally and Simon.

And I let them?

I could tell Zed was uncomfortable with the answer. They’ll be safer that way.

Don’t worry about me.

No can do.

We turned into the covered drop-off area for The Fortune Teller casino hotel.

‘That’s what it’s called!’ said Sally, clicking her fingers. ‘I knew it was something to do with fairs.’ She smoothed her Matisse silk scarf over the jacket of her light wool suit. ‘Do I look OK, Sky?’

‘Very professional.’ I regretted that she was wasting her efforts on a criminal.

Simon always screamed ‘artist’ whatever he was wearing. Today he’d put on his favourite black denim jacket with his jeans—his version of a suit.

‘What an amazing place!’ he marvelled as we strode through the foyer with its ranks of slot machines and waitresses in skimpy gypsy costumes. It was a maze—many of the shops selling cheap rubbish right next to designer label stores. ‘So absolutely tasteless, it is quite a work of art in itself.’

To our right, a klaxon sounded and coins began to pour from a machine into the lap of an ecstatic man in a shiny blue tracksuit. There was a momentary lull as the gamblers glanced over at the lucky winner, then business as usual.

‘I’d like to paint the faces,’ mused Sally, eyeing a woman with an acutely desperate expression perched on a stool by her chosen fruit machine. ‘You can smell the hope and the hopelessness. The lack of natural light gives it an underworld feeling, doesn’t it; land of lost souls?’

Underworld? I was thinking Hell myself with the Kellys as the ruling demons.

A bellboy led us to the bank of lifts. ‘Mrs Toscana will see you in her office,’ he explained. ‘West Tower, third floor.’

The mirrored lift took us to the mezzanine level. A balcony overlooked the main floor of the casino, a variety of games under way from roulette to poker. As it was mid afternoon, most people were casually dressed and the atmosphere relaxed. I’d expected James Bond sophistication and got seaside amusements. The baize shone with the rich green of dubious promise, plastic chips which in truth represented millions of dollars thickening the illusion that this was all just a harmless bit of fun. Our guide showed us to a double set of doors with ‘General Manager’ inscribed on a brass name plate. Once we were through, we left behind the garish fortune teller flash of the hotel decor for quiet and refinement: an elegant white L-shaped sofa for visitors; fresh flowers on a low glass table; and a neatly dressed secretary who greeted us and showed us into the boss’s inner sanctum.

The first thing I noticed was the bank of screens showing activity in all parts of the hotel. There were close-ups of the card tables as well as more general views of the public areas. Then I noticed Maria Kelly standing by the window looking out on to the hotel atrium, her hand outstretched. My hackles rose: she was poison and I didn’t want her anywhere near my parents.

‘Simon, Sally, delighted to meet you in person after our phone calls. And this must be Sky?’

Her smile was friendly, but her emotions told another story, flickering between cool blue calculation and a tinge of red violence. I hoped my face did not betray my revulsion at seeing her again. I had to pretend I still did not remember.

‘Yes, it is,’ said Simon. ‘Thanks for inviting us.’

She waved us to three chairs across the desk from hers. ‘I was hoping that this weekend would give you a chance to understand my hotels, what kind of clientele we cater for, and what artistic tastes they might have. I think you’ll find our rooms range from the economy to the exclusive and our guests’ preferences are on as wide a scale.’

This job was bogus—I could see it in the yellow lights now glowing around her. She was enjoying spinning the tale, like a cat playing with mice.

‘I’ve got a full programme worked out for you and one of my assistant managers will be dedicated to facilitating your visit. But that no doubt sounds very boring for your daughter.’

‘Sky’s happy to fit in with us,’ Sally said. ‘She’ll be no bother.’

‘No, no, that won’t be necessary. I thought she might prefer to find out what Vegas has to offer young people.’

Simon shifted in his seat. ‘Well, now, Mrs Toscana, that’s really kind of you, but you know what Sky’s been through recently; we don’t want to leave her on her own in an unfamiliar place.’

‘Naturally, I couldn’t agree more. That’s why I’ve asked my younger brother if he could spare the time to look after her. I’m sure he’ll show her a good time. Maybe they could catch an afternoon show. The Cirque du Soleil is amazing—she can’t miss that!’

Sean Kelly’s idea of a good time was to drain me of all my emotions and mess around with my head. So this was the plan: to throw me to the Sean-lion while my parents were shepherded off to play in the hotel. I only hoped Victor and Zed were getting all this and would step in before things went too far.

‘Would you like that, darling?’ Sally asked.

‘That’s fine,’ I replied, not quite able to bring myself to thank Maria.

‘Lovely.’ The lines around Sally’s eyes crinkled into a relieved smile. ‘Then we’ll see you back here this evening for dinner, darling.’

‘I’ve booked my private dining room for us, so you can meet other members of the senior staff.’ Maria smiled, displaying an expensive set of teeth. ‘But Sky might prefer to grab a burger with Sean. He’s waiting for her just outside. I’ve got a few business matters I’d like to discuss with your parents, Sky. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Fine.’ She was a real cow—sending me off with the creep outside while pretending she was doing me a favour. ‘I’ll see you later then.’

‘Let’s play it by ear,’ Simon said happily. ‘Come back when you’ve had enough, love.’

Reluctantly, I got up. The only redeeming part of this plan was the fact that my parents were going to be far away from any danger. I checked my new phone was in my jeans’ pocket. Victor had given it to me that morning, saying he’d programmed in his and other emergency numbers just in case. ‘Keep your phone switched on, Simon—I’ll call when I’m finished seeing the sights.’

‘Don’t rush if you’re enjoying yourself.’ Sally smiled conspiratorially at Maria.

That was highly unlikely—not unless it involved seeing our hosts led away in handcuffs.

I’d forgotten just how repulsive Sean was in the flesh. It wasn’t the fact that he was overweight—that could have made him friendly and jolly—it was the dampness of his palm, the smarminess in his smile, the little moustache that looked like an earwig.

‘Sky Bright? Delighted to meet you.’ He held out a hand which I had to take but I slid free as soon as possible.

‘Hi. You’re Sean, right?’

‘Yes. Maria’s asked me to take care of you.’

I bet she has.

‘What do you want to see first? The tables?’ He led the way to the lifts.

‘Am I allowed to gamble? I thought I was under-age.’

He gave me a wink. ‘Let’s say it’s a special arrangement just for you. I’ll get you some chips on the house and you can have a play without losing a dime of your own money. I’m generous—I’ll let you keep any winnings.’

‘That’s really kind of you.’ Not.

He took me to the cashier’s window and drew out chips worth a thousand dollars. ‘That should get you started.’

‘I don’t know the rules of any of the card games.’

‘Then let’s try roulette—that’s child’s play.’

This whole thing was like a spin of roulette. Black or red? Would we come out a winner or the Kellys?

‘OK. That sounds fun,’ I said with feigned enthusiasm.

I swiftly lost half the money through bad guesses, then won a quarter of it back with a lucky punt. I could see how the game could become addictive. There was the hope that the next spin would favour you. No skill was involved; only good fortune.

‘Another go?’ Sean raked in my winnings for me.

‘OK.’ I shoved nearly all of my money on an outside bet on the evens square.

I lost.

‘Hey ho,’ I sighed, trying not to be bothered by all this money going back to the hotel. It was only leprechaun gold, like in Harry Potter.

Put everything on the fifteen, Zed whispered.

I hid my smile behind my hand. I knew he’d be unbeatable at gambling. I placed my remaining chips on fifteen. Sean shook his head.

‘Are you sure, Sky? A bet like that is called a straight up—a risky move.’

‘Yeah, I like to live dangerously.’ I gave him a brash smile.

The other participants chuckled indulgently at my rookie’s enthusiasm.

‘Well now,’ drawled a Stetson-wearing good ol’ boy from Texas, ‘if the pretty lady says black fifteen is lucky, I’ll put my money where she’s put hers. Thirty-five to one—great odds—if you win.’

From the gentle orange glow around the man, I could tell he was only trying to make me feel better about my rashness in the spirit of ‘misery loves company’ when I inevitably lost it all.

‘Trust me,’ I told him seriously. ‘I’m feeling good about this.’

With a laugh, he shoved a sizeable chunk of his money on the fifteen. Catching on to the fun of the moment, several other people risked a chip or two on the same square.

With a confident smile, the croupier spun the big wheel and dropped in the ball.

‘First time, honey?’ asked my Texan, tucking his thumbs into his belt.

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve got a nice accent there.’

‘I’m English.’

‘Pleased to meet you. Now, little lady, don’t go getting upset when you lose your money—treat it as a lesson. Wish I had when I was your age. I’d’ve had myself a nice condo in Florida if I hadn’t wasted it all in places like this.’

I smiled and nodded, turning my attention back to the slowing wheel. Little did he know but he was one step closer to that retirement place.

The ball jumped, clattered, then dropped into its slot. The croupier looked down and swallowed. ‘Black fifteen!’

There was a gasp from all at the table, bar me. Then …

‘Yee-ha!’ The Texan threw his hat in the air. Next he picked me up and spun me round, giving me a kiss on both cheeks. ‘Luck is a lady and here she is!’

Our joint winnings were impressive. I walked away with nearly five thousand dollars, the Texan with several hundred thousand, much to Sean’s horror.

‘Promise to spend it on a place in Florida?’ I asked the Texan, who introduced himself as George Mitchell the Third. I could just see him handing it all back to the Kellys with another rash bet.

‘I promise, honey. And even more, I’ll call it after you. What’s your name?’

‘Sky Bright.’

‘Perfect. Bright Skies here I come.’ With a wave of his hat, he headed for the cashier’s office, hitching his trousers up by the belt.

Gamblers being a superstitious bunch, I found myself besieged by requests for tips for the next spin. Sean pulled on my arm.

‘I think we’d best be heading out,’ he said smoothly, his lights pulsing an angry red.

‘OK. Whatever you want,’ I replied sweetly.

‘I’ll make sure your winnings get to you. A cheque OK?’

‘Um … to my parents, please. I haven’t opened my own bank account in the US yet.’

‘Fine.’ His grip on my arm was just the far side of comfortable, showing that his control was slipping. He tried to make a joke of it. ‘I should take you out of here before you break the bank. How about you go ruin some of our competitors?’

Did that mean he suspected I had used savant powers to beat the roulette wheel?

‘I think I’ve had enough. Beginner’s luck and all that. Don’t want to push it.’

He mastered himself, getting back on track. ‘OK, let’s go eat then. We’ve got an excellent restaurant on the top floor, views across to Red Rock Canyon. I’ll just drop your chips in the office.’ He headed for the cashier’s window. I could tell from the aura of satisfaction that surrounded him that he had no intention of me seeing a cent.

I couldn’t resist checking Zed was still listening even with the risk. Maria Kelly had to be busy, didn’t she? You get that?

Yeah. I’m still laughing about the roulette—well done, baby. I couldn’t help giving you the tip—Victor’s not amused.

Hearing his voice in my head grounded me, lessened the fear. One of my finer moments, thanks to you.

There was a pause. I’ve got to be quick. Victor says Daniel Kelly is up top. We think this might be it.

They’re going to try and wipe my mind again?

Very likely—but we won’t let that happen. Don’t forget to keep your shields strong. We’re moving in to position, got a team on the floor below posing as a cleaning crew.

Where are you?

Close. I’d better stop talking to you now in case Sean picks it up.

I don’t think he can, but maybe Maria is about the place somewhere. She’s the more powerful savant, I’d say.

Then we must break this off. Stay safe.

Yeah, you too.