Inside The Two Puddings, Davey Mitchell was holding court, telling jokes to Pargolis who laughed a little too loudly. The manager of the pub was surreptitiously watching the door, all the while serving drinks and holding conversations with the punters. The pub was only half full, the atmosphere charged. Conversations were loud and in some cases aggressive. The clientele was a mixture of workmen and local bully boys, young up and coming villains who wanted a bit of the reflected limelight being seen with the likes of the Cavanaghs or Pargolis could give them.

As Daniel and Boysie walked into the pub, their four minders fanned out in the bar area itself, having been let in by the barmaid as arranged.

One look at Daniel and Boysie and the pub went quiet. Unnaturally quiet. Men moved towards the sides, out of range of the shotguns, drinks still firmly in their hands, excitement heightened by alcohol. This was news, this was big news and they were to witness it.

‘Hello, Davey, not like you to be quiet. Normally your mouth’s going like the clappers.’ Daniel’s voice was friendly, conversational. He placed his shotgun on the end of the bar, facing away from Pargolis, Davey, and the three men with them.

Davey swallowed hard, his eyes riveted to the gun. Pargolis watched everything in shock. His head was reeling at the sight of the twins.

‘Don’t worry, Davey boy, I ain’t gonna shoot you, son.’

Walking towards him, Daniel opened his coat and brought out a long-handled eighteen-inch blade. It was more like a machete than a knife. At a signal from Daniel, two of his men pinned Davey Mitchell to the bar by his arms.

‘Look, let’s talk about this...’ Pargolis’ voice was a croak. This was not supposed to happen. This was what they were going to do to the twins. This was wrong, all wrong. He had been buying the twins’ men, been setting the scene himself. He was Peter Pargolis, he was a big man.

Boysie laughed out loud, as if reading Pargolis’ thoughts.

‘That’s the trouble with you bubbles, you talk too much, like your friend here. Never heard of the early bird then, I take it? You have to get up before your clothes are on, mate, to get one over on us.’

‘Danny... Danny Boy, don’t do this thing ... Let’s try and talk about it at least...’ Mitchell was stuttering with fright. The bright blade was catching the light as Daniel held it up, bringing it slowly towards his mouth.

‘I’m going to shut you up, Davey, I’m going to shut you up permanently, like I should have when you shot your trap off when me auntie died ... Remember that, do you, you ponce!’