‘Or just taking the piss,’ said Connor. He lifted his pint and downed it in one long swallow. He stood up. ‘Come on. If the mountain won’t come to Mohammed, we’ll take the fucker to him.’

They pitched up at Tobias’s door and rang the bell. There were lights on, someone was in. Joey had been in the pub toilets before they left for a little livener, and now, to Connor’s disgust, he was high as a kite. Joey hammered at the door.

‘What you want?’ came a trembling voice from inside.

‘Tobias? That you? Open the fucking door,’ said Connor.

There was the sound of a bolt being thrown back, and the door opened. Tobias Wilkes stood there, a short and balding middle-aged man. He looked terrified, not the efficient businessman facade he usually presented to the world. He was scruffy, unshaven, and his shirt was soiled. A waft of sour whisky breath hit Connor. He’d been drinking hard, trying to give himself a bit of Dutch courage, and he was weaving on his feet. ‘You were meant to be down the pub at eight,’ said Joey, pushing in past the man. Connor followed more slowly. ‘What you playing at? You know Mr Flynn wanted a meet.’

‘What for?’ Tobias smiled sickly. Connor saw there was nervous sweat on his upper lip. He knew what for. Tobias looked guilty as fuck.

‘You been taking liberties with my cash,’ said Connor as the three of them stood in the hall. Joey was dancing from foot to foot, coming in close to Tobias in a threatening manner.

Christ, how many of those damned things has he shoved down his throat this time? wondered Connor.

‘No, I . . .’

‘Ah, don’t bother,’ said Joey.

Without warning he pulled out a knife and smashed it into the man’s right shoulder.

Tobias cried out like a stuck pig. Joey yanked the knife free, and blood flowed out from the wound and dripped down Tobias’s manky old shirt. Joey came in close again, too close. This wasn’t a murdering offence. Connor grabbed his arm and Joey’s head turned. His eyes when they met Connor’s looked wild, unfocused. For a minute Connor thought that Joey might even turn the knife on him, then the fog seemed to clear in Joey’s drugged-up brain and he stepped back a pace.

‘Argh! Don’t. Don’t!’ yelled Tobias, sobbing. He was clutching at his arm, and his eyes were full of panic. Blood was spilling out, soaking his fingers in red. ‘All right, I skimmed a bit. I admit it. I’m sorry. My old lady’s going to have my balls on a platter over this fucking divorce and I was going to pay it back when I could, every penny!’