The van rocked again and the other ankle made the same muffled popping noise.

‘AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH. . .’

Reuben wiped his hands down the front of his boilersuit, then smiled at Logan. ‘Not very bright, is he? ’

‘God sake. . .’ Logan pushed past him and climbed up into the back of the van.

Fisher was back on his side, folding his knees up to his chest then out again – like a broken accordion. Mouth open in a silent scream.

Logan took hold of his shoulders and pinned him to the plastic sheeting, holding him still. Then leaned in until his mouth was an inch from Fisher’s collection of earrings, and dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘Listen up, you daft bastard: they’re not kidding. This isn’t the TV, there’s no last-minute rescue coming. They’re going to kill you if you don’t tell them who’s stealing their drugs.’

‘I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. . .’ A massive shuddering breath.

‘You’re going to die, do you get that? And it won’t be quick. This’ll be a happy memory for you by the time they’ve finished!’

‘Please. . . It hurts. . .’

‘That was just the warm-up, wait till he gets into his stride. Now who’s stealing their bloody cannabis? ’

Fisher’s bottom lip trembled. ‘It . . . Ton. It was Ton. Anthony Chung.’

Of course it was.

‘You were Anthony Chung’s best friend: everyone knows he always had loads of cannabis. You were selling it for him, weren’t you? Passing it out through the bar. Even after he beat the crap out of you? ’

‘It was. . . I didn’t have any choice.’ Sweat sparkled on Fisher’s face. ‘Please, please, you’ve got to help me. . .’

‘Who was he working with? ’

Reuben’s voice boomed out from the loading dock behind them. ‘If you’re gonnae bum him, get on with it so I can start on his kneecaps.’

‘Will you shut up for two minutes? ’ Then back to Fisher. ‘Who was Anthony working with, Dan? Who’s in charge now he’s dead? ’

‘I don’t know, I don’t—’

Logan took hold of Fisher’s pierced ear and twisted.

‘Aaaaaagh!’

‘Do you want to end up carved into little pieces? ’

The words came out riding on a wave of jagged sobs. ‘I only dealt with Ton! He said . . . he said he knew someone who worked for these cannabis farms, and he could find out where they were, and all I did was sell it on, I never stole it, I swear on my mother’s grave, I don’t know. . .’

Reuben slammed the Transit van’s back doors closed, shutting out the sound of Dan Fisher’s sobs.