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“You don’t know how to shoot.”

“No, but he does, so I’d rather I was the one with the weapon. Now perhaps we should tie him up.”

“With what?”

Liza slipped the belt out of her dressing gown and handed it to Hanna.

“Okay.” Hanna looked down at it somewhat doubtfully. “But this is getting to be some kinky shit.”

Standing back and holding the gun with both hands, Liza addressed the professor. “Right, you’ve probably worked out that there’s a pistol pointed at you, so you’re going to sit up carefully, you’re going to leave the blanket on your head, and you’re going to let Hanna tie it in place. Understand?”

“And if I struggle?” The professor was sitting up slowly, but Hanna already had the belt over his shoulders.

“I shoot you.”

“And if you miss and hit your wife?” Liza was relieved to note that he sounded a little groggy, but still infuriatingly confident.

That, Liza had to admit, wasn’t something she’d considered. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Is it, though?” he mused. Although, since Hanna was already sticking a knee in his spine to pull the belt tight around his arms, it might have been redundant. “You know,” he said, “this is very undignified.”

“Well, you should have thought of that,” said Hanna, “before you became a master criminal.”

Liza kept the gun trained on the professor while Hanna got dressed, and then, after a little initial resistance from Hanna, they swapped clothes-putting-on, gun-holding roles.

“I thought you didn’t believe in firearms,” observed the professor.

“This is a very specific situation.”

While being fully dressed made the whole situation slightly less threatening, it was gradually dawning on Liza that she wasn’t entirely sure what she was meant to do next. The professor was temporarily neutralised, but a blanket and a fluffy belt wasn’t exactly an inescapable predicament, especially for somebody with his skillset. She was really, really hoping that they wouldn’t wind up having to shoot him, but it was really, really looking like they might.

The knock at the door broke her train of thought.

“Who is it?” asked Hanna, still keeping the gun firmly trained on the professor.

“Me.” It was the distinctive me of Mr Burgh. “I’m afraid there’s been a bit of a situation.”

Relatively confident now that the hotel manager wasn’t also a mass murderer, Liza opened the door to find him standing, quite alone, in the corridor. “Yeah,” she said, stepping aside to let him see their captive. “We’ve got a bit of a situation in here too.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Sir Richard, in the Drawing Room, with a Proposal

Thursday morning

Liza hadn’t really expected the professor to go full yes-I-did-it-and-I’d-do-it-again, but she’d hoped that he’d at least keep quiet or drop the milquetoast-academic-wouldn’t-hurt-a-fly routine.

He didn’t.

“Mr Burgh?” he cried out plaintively from under the blanket. “Thank goodness you’re here. There’s been the most fearful misunderstanding.”

Hanna kept him covered while Liza ran interference with the manager. “There’s no misunderstanding. He broke into our room, held us at gunpoint, and threatened to murder my wife if we didn’t hand over our information about his criminal empire.”

“Oh, come now.” The professor’s voice was a portrait of muffled indignation. “Does that sound remotely plausible?”

“So what’s your story?” asked Hanna. “You were just out for a stroll and decided to clamber through a second-floor window?”

The professor continued unperturbed. “I’m not the one who needs a story, madam. You’re the one holding an innocent hotel guest tied up in your room.”