‘It’s true that I have had to use a little persuasion on Green,’ admitted Lady Norton.

‘Hang about, is that in the rules?’ argued Ross. ‘Won’t he have an extra incentive to win?’

His mother, Montana, seemed to be agreeing, nodding at him vigorously. ‘Yes, darling, yes.’ Abbott wondered how she felt, this mother who had just lost her son. There was no reason why a bereaved mother should not be dolled up as she was. Far be it for him to give a shit, much less dictate how a woman should dress, whatever the circumstances.

But a bereaved mother competing in something like this? That was different. That was just further validation that this lot were scoring high on the psycho scale.

‘Well? Mr Coombs?’ Ross demanded to know.

‘There is nothing in the rules that prevents proxies from being coerced,’ Coombs said blandly, in response.

Abbott wondered if this was what Coombs had envisioned doing at law school, all those years ago. Defender of the dispossessed? No. Legendary criminal lawyer? No. Plaything for a bunch of sick millionaires? Sign me up.

Their eyes met and like Monroe, the lawyer’s gaze slid away. There was one thing to be said for his position, thought Abbott. Impossible though it seemed, tough as the odds were, it felt great to know you were the good guy for once.

‘Well, now that we’ve got that sorted,’ said Lady Norton, ‘how about we tell you what happens next?’

Abbott looked at her. ‘That would be grand, Lady Norton,’ he said with just a trace of irony.

‘Excellent,’ she sniffed. ‘In a moment we shall be randomly selecting for you one of our four areas. Shortly, you will be transported to your given area, where the game will begin. You will find a weapon in the area. Unless, of course, you would prefer to use your fists.’

‘Wait,’ said Abbott, holding up a hand.

There was a slight shift in the room. Nobody was accustomed to hearing Grandmama addressed that way. Nor, judging by her face, was she. ‘I suggest you remember your place, Green,’ she said.

Abbott cocked his head. ‘Oh, yes? Or . . .?’

She tilted her chin, as though letting this latest act of defiance ride. ‘Go ahead. What is it that you want to say?’

‘I want to know about weaponry. What will I be using? What will the others be using?’

‘My understanding is that you have all been issued with a Sig Sauer and thirty rounds of ammunition. Is that correct, Mr Kilgore?’

‘That’s correct, ma’am.’

She smiled wanly at Abbott. ‘Is that all you need to know . . . Green?’

Abbott looked at her.

Green, he thought. Not wanting to show his hand, reveal his intentions but unable to help himself.

‘I saw that video,’ he told her.

The words dropped like a stone in the room.

‘A video taken a very long time ago,’ she replied tartly.