‘Aye, well therein lies a tale, my friend. Used to be a time when all the drugs in this town were run by a bloke named Ronald Kemp. And they were all run out of here. Kemp had the drugs, Doyle had just about everything else. Well, you can imagine that neither of them was very happy with that, and it was only a matter of time that one of them launched a takeover bid. It was before my time, but apparently there was a lot of blood spilled that night.’

‘Grinder?’

‘You’ll see. The point is that Kemp was moved out and Doyle moved in. What you have here now is a twenty-four-hour operation. Anything that goes on in this town starts here. Drugs. Guns. Prostitution. This is like Derby’s crime depot.’

On either side of the service road was undeveloped scratch land. Ahead of them were two white vans parked on either side of the road end-to-end. McGregor, as they approached, flicked the BMW headlights. The doors to the vans opened, two men got out, one of them tucking something into the belt of his jeans.

McGregor stopped. The window glided down. ‘Mr McGregor,’ said one of the sentries looking into the car, past McGregor. On Abbott’s side was the second guy. His hands were behind his back. On the butt of his gun. ‘Is your guest armed?’

‘Aye, our guest is indeed armed. He is by profession a contract killer.’

Abbott had no idea how much of what was taking place was meant for his benefit but observed with interest anyway as the guard pointed a finger at his own face. ‘Scared,’ he said. And then looked across at Abbott. ‘You all right, mate? Got no beef with you, just that any guns, you have to give them up here.’

‘Fine,’ said Abbott. ‘I’ve got an MP7 in the rucksack and a Glock in my belt.’

The guy made an impressed face. ‘Hand them over,’ he said.

‘I’ll be needing them back.’

‘Soon as Mr Doyle says so.’

Abbott did as asked, instantly feeling more vulnerable. They drove on. Abbott saw more men. None had visible weaponry and yet from the way they stood it was clear that all were armed.

They drove on. Abbott looked around, seeing three or four buildings. A main factory building as well as ancillary outposts that in the past might have been workshops or administrative units, now presumably repurposed in order to serve the cause of human misery.

‘Open all hours, you say?’ he said to McGregor.

‘That’s about the size of it.’

‘And Doyle? Does he live on site?’

‘No, he’s got his mansion out among Derby’s golfing set, but you’ll find him here most nights till about seven, eight, nine o’clock.’

‘Fond of the merchandise, is he?’

‘Not in the way you’re thinking, pal,’ smirked McGregor, but left it there.

They reached the main factory building.