‘Yes. I know. You’d say that if you saw him. I think, if anything, it was Sweaty who panicked your brother. He isn’t the most savoury of people, if you know what I mean. Sweaty by name, sweaty by nature.’

‘What happened to him, this Sweaty?’

‘If I tell you more, can we do a deal?’

‘Just talk.’

‘OK. He left Matlock. He came here, in fact.’

‘Both of you from Derby, eh?’

Scutter nodded. ‘They set him up nicely.’

‘They? Doyle?’

‘Something like that. Point being that we can make a deal and I can help you find Sweaty. And if you find Sweaty, you’ll find yourself that much closer to the heart of the machine. You’ll practically be in the engine room. Would you like to do that? What do you say, Abbott? Do you fancy being my bodyguard?’

Abbott shook his head. ‘You are seriously pushing your luck, mate. Nothing changes the fact that you killed my brother.’

Scutter opened his mouth to object, but Abbott stopped him with a sharp jab of the suppressor. ‘Shut up. You were responsible for the people who killed my brother. And, no, I didn’t come here to kill you, but on the other hand, I didn’t come here to do you any favours either.’

Scutter had lost a little of his confidence now. A gun barrel at the side of your head will do that. ‘All right then,’ he said. ‘I understand. How about this? You be my bodyguard. You protect me from the hooded claw, and I’ll lead you to the men that you really want, the organ grinders, not the monkeys. I’ll take you to Sweaty. And I’ll show you the whole organisation.’

‘What do you mean, the organ grinders?’ said Abbott. At the same time, he saw a movement outside the French windows and swung to see a guy in the garden, a suppressed MP7 at his shoulder, taking aim.

Abbott dived.

And a bullet that was meant for him blew Scutter’s brains out.

Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Blood, bits of skull and grey brain matter bloomed in the front room. Abbott wheeled, bringing the Glock up in a two-handed grip to see that in the glass of the French doors was a single bullet hole. He was about to squeeze off, but was too late, as the garden guy fired again, this time a short burst that destroyed the glass of the French door, sending Abbott diving for cover and giving the guy enough time to step through the shattered glass and into the lounge.