He shut the door behind me, never removing the barrel from the small of my back. A pair of fluoro tubes on the ceiling flickered on.
A kitchen. Cleaner and tidier than I’d have expected. Six-seater table, big refrigerator humming in the corner, VB carton open on the floor next to it. A faint musty smell.
The place was a hideout.
‘Put the bag on the table and sit there,’ he said. Nudging me to the closest chair.