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‘Full immunity?’ Cunningham said. ‘You’re offering full immunity?’

‘The attorney general will confirm it shortly,’ Draper said.

‘Even though you know some of the shit I done?’

Draper nodded.

‘I ain’t no rat,’ she said after a few beats. ‘And even if I was, my life wouldn’t be worth spit if I flip on those guys. And don’t give me that “We can protect you” bullshit because you can’t. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.’

‘We don’t care about the East Coast Sweeney,’ Koenig said. ‘And Special Agent in Charge Isaacs doesn’t need you to flip. He has your bank accounts, and he has your friends’ bank accounts. I used to hunt people like you, and the one thing you all have in common is that you don’t understand how money works. How much of an auditable trail it leaves. But the FBI understands. The FBI understands that once it has one bank account, it has them all. It won’t be long before Special Agent in Charge Isaacs has unravelled the whole sordid affair. He’ll get everyone.’

Cunningham swallowed. Hard. It was obvious she hadn’t considered that. ‘They’ll think I ratted them out,’ she said.

‘Way I see it, you only have one option: take the deal and get the hell out of Dodge before the rest of the East Coast Sweeney are hoovered up.’

The phone rang, shrill and loud in the enclosed interview room. Cunningham flinched. Draper reached over and hit the answer button.

‘This is Arianna Dowd, Miss Cunningham,’ a voice said. No preamble. ‘Do you know who I am?’

The United States attorney general wasn’t one for wasting her words.

Cunningham stared at the phone in astonishment. After a moment she said, ‘For real?’

‘Sure as gravity.’

‘Well, I guess I’ve heard of you then.’

Koenig wasn’t surprised that Cunningham knew the AG. Arianna Dowd was that rare thing in DC: a political appointment liked by both sides of the aisle. She grew up in Rockaway Beach, cut her teeth prosecuting Cosa Nostra families in the 1980s, hammered white-collar pension-fund raiders in the 1990s, and was called to the bench in 2001. She was as tough as a bobcat and twice as mean.

‘And what have you heard, Miss Cunningham?’

‘That you’re fair.’

‘What else?’

‘You hate dirty cops.’

‘Goes without saying. What else?’

‘You don’t like repeating yourself.’

‘And I’m not about to start with a piece of shit like you,’ the AG said. ‘This is a one-time deal. Full immunity in exchange for verified information. I have an hourglass on my desk, Miss Cunningham. Only I know how much time it measures, but I’ll give you this for free – it isn’t an hour. I’ve just turned it over. When there’s no sand in the upper globe, I’m hanging up. You have until then to tell Mr Koenig what he needs to know.’

Cunningham blew out her breath like a horse whinny.

‘Ask your questions,’ she said.