Pushing the blade lengthways into Mitchell’s open mouth he pushed with all his might, slicing through the soft skin of his cheeks and jowl. The scream was loud and frightened, the man’s voice gradually trailing off as Daniel pushed upwards, bringing the blade out once more and then upwards again, pushing the tip through the roof of his mouth and up into his brain.

Daniel nodded to the minders and as they let go of his arms, Davey Mitchell dropped to the floor. Finally Daniel dragged the blade free and stood with blood dripping on to the floor as he wiped it off on Davey Mitchell’s good suit.

Pargolis watched the scene in morbid fascination. Then he saw Boysie walking towards him with the shotgun poised, aimed at his stomach, and knew, totally and irrevocably, that he would never see his wife or his children again.

Briony was woken by the loud knocking on her front door. Tommy got up and looked out of the bedroom window, half asleep.

‘Who is it, Tommy love?’

‘It’s the Old Bill.’

She sat upright in the bed then, her face pale with shock. ‘The Old Bill? What on earth could they want?’

She leapt from the bed and pulled on her dressing gown. She could hear the flapping of Cissy’s slippers as she went to open the front door and, charging out on to the landing, she collided with Daniel.

‘It’s the police, Danny Boy. What have you been up to?’ He smiled good-naturedly and shrugged.

‘I ain’t done nothing, Mum, I swear.’ He smiled down at her and she watched as he belted up his dressing gown and walked nonchalantly down the stairs.

Briony and Tommy followed him. Briony had a sick feeling on her that grew as she saw the number of policemen in her hallway. ‘What is going on here, please? Why are you here at this time of the morning?’

Her voice was surprisingly steady. She glared at the gaunt detective in his old, well-worn raincoat.

Limmington smiled, and took off his hat in a courtly gesture.

‘Miss Cavanagh, I’m sorry to get you out of bed. It’s your nephew we’re after.’ He turned to Daniel who was watching him with a closed expression on his face.

‘Daniel O’Malley, I arrest you for the murder of one David Mitchell. You are not obliged to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence against you. Do you understand what I have just said?’

‘Yeah, I understand, and me name’s Cavanagh, mate. Get it right.’