‘Yes,’ said Father. ‘We found his guard inside the tent as well. His throat had been cut too.’

‘Did you say “too”?’

‘What is this, a word game?’ asked Ucho. ‘Yes, they were both the same way. Throats slit.’

It was as if the phrase triggered off the entire chain of events that followed, as Albert felt the hairs standing up on his arms one by one and time begin to slow down, each heartbeat seeming to echo in his ears as his mind cut back to an image of his own face. His face, reflected in a pair of implacable, impenetrable black eyes.

Almost on cue, as if reading his mind, June spoke again. ‘Marcus is nowhere to be found.’

He looked at her. ‘So you think—’

‘Nobody thinks anything at the moment,’ said Father quickly. ‘We are merely ascertaining the facts. Now, Albert, when I met you, you had been talking to Marcus. Might I ask what it was about?’

‘Nothing, really. I just asked him a bit about the Renegades. Then he left. That was pretty much it.’

‘I see.’

‘Is that all?’ asked Albert.

‘Yes, I think so—’

‘No, not yet!’ said Ucho. ‘I still have a couple of questions for him.’

‘What do you want to know?’ asked Albert.

‘Well, for starters, where were you the last couple of hours?’

‘Same place you were,’ said Albert, looking straight at him. ‘At the fights.’

Ucho met his gaze steadily. Albert thought he saw something flicker in the man’s eyes, but then it was gone. ‘Oh, you were at the fights. Did you go alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘So nobody can vouch that you were there?’

‘Well, I ran into Kieran there. He’ll vouch for me, I’ll hope.’

‘I’ll speak to him,’ said Colby quickly, looking from Albert to Ucho.

‘Do that,’ said Ucho. He turned back to Albert.

‘That’s all, then? You were there and you came straight here?’

‘Yes.’

‘That’s no bloody help, then.’

‘I’m sorry, but that’s all I know.’

There was silence for a minute or two in the tent. Then Ucho slapped his hand violently against his thigh. ‘Well, I’m going to get to the bottom of this!’ he barked, and strode towards the cloth partition. Then he turned back to face them, his face red and angry. His voice though, was the softest Albert had ever heard it. ‘He was a good man. He didn’t deserve to go like this. Neither of them did. And I’m going to make sure the punk who did this—’

He broke off and spun around to stare, goggle-eyed at the partition, as two more men entered the room, carrying a large grey sack between them with much grunting and groaning, placed it on the floor, and left. A moment later they came back in again, carrying another identical sack, only this one was even larger.