That was it. That was the extent of their interaction. Money changed hands and Abbott left, knowing that he had just stepped into hell.

Knowing that he had to go back.

He needed to pay a special visit to Sweaty.

Chapter 26

CHAPTER 26

In his room he stripped and cleaned the Glock. He waited until around 1am, then took the Glock and the suppressor and left.

He found a motor, hotwired it. He drove to the derelict tower blocks, located The Freemasons Arms, and parked.

The front of the pub was dark, but as he watched, a figure arrived and a security light flicked on, illuminating a man in an anorak, who knocked on the door of the pub and then did what McGregor had done earlier, looked up and into the CCTV.

He went inside. The light remained on for a few moments and then flicked off.

Scanning the front of the pub earlier, Abbott had taken note of the security cameras. He’d also clocked the fact that there was a loading door to the pub cellar – a loading door that was bolted from inside. He skirted the pub, confident that none of the cameras could pick him up, and then took a direct line to the loading hatch.

There he crouched, waiting. Around him the desolate urban landscape was still, tower blocks rising overhead, blotting out the moon. Only a tiny sliver of light escaped from the loading hatch.

Was Sweaty down there? Just one way to find out. Gently, Abbott knocked on the hatch. Waited.

From below came the sound of movement. A voice. ‘Hello?’

Abbott knocked again. This time the voice was closer. Sweaty had climbed the stone steps to the door itself. ‘Who’s out there?’ he said, sounding as though he was speaking with his mouth full. Abbott remembered the Hobnobs. ‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘It’s me, Flyte,’ said Abbott. ‘I need to speak to you.’

‘Well then, come through the front like everybody else.’

Abbott fixed the suppressor to his Glock. ‘No. I don’t want them to see me. What I have to say is between you and me only.’

From the other side of the hatch came a dry chuckle. ‘I get ya. See something you liked, did ya?’

Abbott shifted a little, going down on one knee and bringing the Glock to bear two-handed. Around him the night was still and dark. The empty tower block cancelled the moon-light. ‘You could say that. Now are you going to let me in, or not?’

There was the sound of a bolt being thrown back and then another. Abbott tensed. The loading hatch rose. The top of Sweaty’s head appeared, his forehead and then his eyes which found Abbott, adjusting in the dark and then widening at the sight of the gun. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ was what he started to say but didn’t finish.