The shooting continued behind him as Abbott made his way back to the quad. There would be more guards here, he knew. Men whose only job would be to keep the Nortons safe and who would, no doubt, be stationed on the balcony, able to pick him off from an elevated position, should he get too careless.

‘Abbott,’ came the call, an accent he recognised. It was McGregor, who clearly had been waiting for him. Were it not for what Ward had told him, then Abbott would have put him down there and then. Instead, he swung his Sig towards him as he came out of cover.

‘Talk,’ demanded Abbott. ‘Tell me everything and tell it now, or I swear to God I’m going to put a bullet in you right here, right now.’

‘Come on now, Abbott,’ said McGregor, his arms up, not quite in surrender, just in supplication, ‘who did you think it was that brought Ward and Tom Brace and the muscleman here?’

‘I know that. It’s the only reason you’re not laid out on the concrete now. You need to tell me right now who you’re working for.’

‘Me?’ said McGregor. For the first time, Abbott noticed a wildness in his eyes. Excitement or anticipation or something else. ‘I’m working for me. And together, you and me are going to bring these people down.’ He shifted slightly, twisting a little so that Abbott could see the gun in the waistband of his jeans. ‘Let me pull my weapon, Abbott. We’ve got to go to work. They have to die. Every one of them. The whole fucking lot of them, Abbott. Come on. Together. You and me.’

Abbott shook his head. And instead of letting McGregor draw the weapon, he stepped forward and snatched it, tucking it into the back of his jeans, much to McGregor’s exasperation.

‘What do you mean?’ demanded Abbott. ‘What the fuck are you trying to say?’

‘I’ll tell you what I mean,’ said McGregor. ‘Those videos. The ones on the CD. Guess who has a starring role as “little boy on bed”?’

Abbott’s face fell. ‘No.’

‘Oh, aye, that’s right. Yours truly. You might say that I hold a grudge, Abbott. You might also say that I’m a man who’s happy to bide his time, especially when it comes to plotting my revenge – and you of all people can understand the need for revenge, eh, Abbott? You of all people. I didn’t have the special forces training, but I had patience. I had cunning. I had resolve. And then – oh, God must have been smiling on me – I got you. I wasn’t able to make Charles Norton pay for what he did to me, but I sure as hell made Doyle pay, eh? And now it’s Juliet Norton’s turn – she and the rest of her corrupt and poxy brood.’