‘I think that had you tried to choose anybody else then I may have attempted to change your mind,’ said Monroe, nodding approvingly. ‘Heidi Kavanagh is her name. I should declare an interest because I have, in the past, had a relationship with Heidi, and I can tell you from experience, not all of it pleasurable, that she will prove a very capable operative.’

‘I like it. It feels like the left-field choice,’ said Clifford, feeling very modern, very progressive.

‘You mean because she’s a woman?’

Clifford nodded.

‘She may be that,’ said Monroe. ‘I can indeed vouch for it. She also happens to be the best. Whatever your reasons for making the choice, I can assure you that you’ve made the right one.’

Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

At night, Abbott struggled, finding it tough to resist the clarion call of the bar downstairs. When he closed his eyes, he heard the crack of the drug dealer’s finger. He remembered the looks on the Polish couple’s faces. He told himself that the ends justified the means, but it did little to assuage his guilt. It made it no easier to gaze upon his own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Over the next couple of days, things got worse. Until one afternoon, he and McGregor visited what was clearly a derelict pub in the shadow of tower blocks that according to the various taped-off doorways and windows – not to mention the prominent warning signs – were earmarked for demolition.

Looking around, Abbott found himself reminded of bomb sites in Belfast, areas of the city that had been reduced to rubble and would stay like that for a while. Here the culprit was not bombs but poverty, neglect and misconceived town planning. Not far away was a burnt-out car. Close by, somebody had dumped household rubbish, scorched kitchen units, an incongruous pushchair.

And in the middle of it all, as though mounting a valiant rearguard action in an attempt to resist the encroachment of the wasteland, was the pub.

The Freemasons Arms was its name. Or had been. Now, though, the windows were covered with metal grilles. The door was reinforced.

McGregor led Abbott to it and knocked. Another incongruity was a modern-looking CCTV camera trained on the door. McGregor looked up into it, smiling sardonically, and moments later, the door was opened for them by a guy with a machete tucked into his belt. He raised his chin in silent greeting, allowed them in and closed the door.