Norton and Doyle had both removed their robes. Both had gone to their hands and knees on the mattress, approaching the boy, who cowered away as Juliet Norton stood back with her arms folded across her chest, her lips moving, saying what, Abbott had no idea, but whatever it was, it did nothing to put the kid at ease, because his emotions were written all over his face, a little boy who should have been loved and cared for and treated to days out and marshmallows in hot chocolate by loving parents. Who instead . . .

Abbott watched what happened next. Not all of it. Enough. Until he could take no more. And when he’d finished, he sat for a while, only just managing to control the anger and hate, the sheer vindictive energy within himself. He didn’t need to watch the other files. He knew what they contained.

And then he called Cuckoo.

‘Hello, mate,’ he said, when Cuckoo answered, his friend’s voice a reminder that a better world was out there.

‘Abbott, you’re still alive.’

‘Apparently.’ He updated Cuckoo, telling him about the previous night’s operation.

‘I saw the fire on the news,’ whistled Cuckoo. ‘I had a funny feeling that it all had something to do with you.’

To Abbott it was already ancient history. ‘Listen. I’ve got evidence that can put Juliet Norton away.’

‘Right,’ said Cuckoo carefully. ‘What kind of evidence are we talking about?’

‘I’m talking about films of Juliet Norton, her husband and Ray Doyle abusing children. Dozens, maybe hundreds of children.’

‘You know what this means, don’t you?’ said Cuckoo, when Abbott had finished.

‘It means we have the evidence we need,’ replied Abbott.

‘Sure, but more than that, it means you can pull out.’

‘Pull out of what?’

‘You don’t need to participate in their bloody game, that’s what I mean,’ insisted Cuckoo.

‘Does it? It fingers Juliet, but that’s all.’

‘Well, maybe she’s the only one who’s guilty?’

‘Guilty of what?’

‘What do you think? Child abuse.’

‘They’re all dirty, mate. Maybe they’re not abusing kids. But they’re still all part of the game, aren’t they?’

‘And that means they deserve to die?’

Abbott stayed silent.

‘Either way, but you don’t need to risk your life going into the game. Not now you have this. Take down Juliet this way. Hunt down the surviving members of the family individually. Creep into their houses late at night, put bullets in their heads. Honestly, if that’s what you want, I won’t lose any sleep over it. Just don’t play their game.’