‘Well, you see,’ said Doyle, taking a big slug of whiskey and then leaning back in his chair, ‘that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. See, I’m still being kept in the fuckin’ dark here. I want to know why London are so interested in you.’ He reached to scratch at his sweatshirt in the usual place. Abbott noticed that the spot was more faded than the rest of his top. A spot close to his heart.

OK, thought Abbott, play this one carefully. One wrong move. One thing he said that didn’t check out, and his cover, that most flimsy of disguises, was blown. Then again, perhaps he could tease something out of Doyle.

‘I’ve already told you everything I know. Strikes me that you need to speak to Kilgore.’

‘You went through a go-between, is that right?’

‘That’s right,’ said Abbott. All his work had been conducted that way. There was no reason to believe that Flyte operated any differently. And one thing becoming clear about the London end of the operation was that they operated very much on a need-to-know basis.

‘And you weren’t told why you were needed up here?’

‘I never am. Ours not to reason why . . .’

‘Ours but to do or die,’ said McGregor.

‘All right, all right,’ said Doyle, irritated. ‘Come on now, Flyte, you must have some idea why London are so interested in you? You must be wondering why they want you kept here,’

Abbott shook his head. ‘There could be any number of reasons. Perhaps they’re lining me up for another job. Perhaps there’s heat and they need to wait for it to die down. Right now it suits me to stay. I’ll be sure to let you know as soon as it doesn’t.’

‘Lining you up for another job, eh?’ Doyle’s eyes narrowed. ‘I wonder. I wonder if that’s it. What does Juliet have planned?’ He said this last bit to McGregor. Abbott’s ears pricked up. Juliet. Who was Juliet?

At that moment, Doyle’s phone buzzed. He looked at it then spoke to McGregor, slurring his words. ‘Go downstairs, would you, tell them I’ll be down in a minute.’

McGregor nodded and left the room.

Doyle drained his whiskey, took a final pull on a cigarette and stubbed it out. He put his elbow to the table, pointing, so that Abbott half expected him to say, ‘You’re fired.’ Instead what he said was, ‘You better be being straight with me, Flyte. If Juliet wants to try something, let her try. I’ve got a safe in there full of all the evidence that I need to put her away for the rest of her life.’

He was pointing to a door off to one side, his finger trembling. He was almost completely in the bag. Probably didn’t Juliet?’ he asked.