‘That’s it, hold him down now . . . get his arm, Malcolm. Konrad, you grab that other wrist . . . quickly now chaps . . .’

‘I’m trying,’ one of them squawks, then yelps when Ben punches him.

‘Ben, just calm down . . . we’re here to help you . . .’

‘He got me in the face. I think he’s bust my nose . . .’

‘Just knock him out, Malc.’

‘Is it broken?’

‘Not now, Malc! Jab him . . . I can’t hold him.’

‘That’s it chaps. You’re doing well but do hurry it along . . .’

A heavy weight smothers Ben’s upper body as one of the men lies across him, trapping his arms. ‘Got him! Malc . . . jab him . . . jab him . . . Malc . . . jab him . . .’

‘I am trying, Konrad,’ Malcolm says tightly as Ben surges up to sink his teeth into something warm and fleshy.

‘AARRGHHH,’ Konrad screams. ‘HE’S BLOODY BITING ME AGAIN . . .’

‘Shush now, Konrad . . .’

‘But he’s biting me . . .’

‘Yes, I can see that, but there’s no need to scream so loudly. Do man up.’

‘Got it,’ Malcolm shouts as something sharp is jabbed into Ben’s neck that sends a warm feeling spreading through his body. His head becomes too heavy to hold up and he sinks down, with his teeth sliding from the flesh he was biting into.

‘Thank God,’ Konrad groans.

‘Is my nose broken?’

‘Not now, Malc. He’s still fighting.’

‘Give it a second. Christ, the program isn’t wrong with this one!’

‘Why isn’t it working, boss? He should be out by now.’

‘Because he’s Ben Ryder, chaps, which is exactly why we want him.’

Ben Ryder? I’m not Ben Ryder now. I’m Ben Calshott. Birmingham. The gang. They’ve found him. They’ll kill him. He explodes and fights with renewed strength, gouging, biting, hitting and bucking like mad, but that spreading warmth sinks deeper and pulls him down like he’s falling slowly. The air is too hot and feels too thick. His ears ring. Every inch of him hurts and he tries to stay awake but the pull is too great and he goes down until the last thing he hears are several relieved voices.

‘He’s out.’

‘Sure?’

‘Well he’s gone limp, Malcolm, which does suggest that he’s out considering he was fighting like crazy a second ago.’

‘Don’t be sarcastic, Konrad. Check his pulse.’

‘I can’t do that if he’s going to buck about. Hold him down . . .’

‘I am, just check his pulse.’

‘I am, Malcolm! His pulse is slowing . . .’

‘Check his pupils too, Konrad,’ the posh voice says.

‘I’m not a bloody doctor, boss. Hang on, yeah . . . yeah they’re dilated. He’s out.’

‘Oh my God that was hard, is my nose broken?’

‘Hang on, I’ll have a look . . .’

‘Don’t blind me!’

‘You told me to look at your nose.’

‘My nose, not my eyes, you twat.’

‘Your nose is in-between your eyes and, yeah, it’s bent and bleeding.’