Verity pointed his shotgun at Macdonald’s midriff, his finger on the trigger. Macdonald swung his own shotgun up so that it was levelled at Verity.

‘Guys, for fuck’s sake!’ shouted Owen. ‘We’re on the same side here!’

‘We’re in this together,’ said Verity. ‘If we split up now, it’s over.’

‘It’s over anyway!’ roared Macdonald. ‘You just don’t see it.’

‘Bob, we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t,’ said Owen.

Macdonald snarled at Owen, though he kept his weapon on Verity. ‘You told me this was a straight robbery,’ he said. ‘In and out before anyone was the wiser, you said. Now we’re taking hostages.’

‘The cops are going to say we took hostages anyway,’ said Owen calmly. ‘Soon as we tied them up we were holding them against their will. Look, I brought you in on this because you were a cool head. Don’t let me down now.’

The phone stopped ringing. Outside the warehouse they heard rapid footsteps. Then silence.

Macdonald lowered his weapon. ‘Okay,’ he said.

Verity stared at him, then nodded curtly, acknowledging Macdonald’s change of heart. ‘Check the door,’ Verity said. ‘Don’t open it, just listen.’

Macdonald walked towards it. As he passed Verity, he turned suddenly and slammed the cut-down stock of his shotgun into the man’s stomach. The breath exploded from Verity’s lungs and he doubled over. Macdonald brought the stock crashing down on the back of Verity’s head and Verity dropped like a dead weight.

Owen stared at Macdonald in amazement. Doug and Fred cheered. The Glaswegian tried to rip his shotgun away from the warehouseman’s neck but the duct tape held firm and he cursed. Macdonald swung his gun towards him. ‘Don’t even think about it, Jock,’ he said.

‘You’re dead,’ said Owen. ‘When he gets hold of you, you’ll be wearing your balls around your neck.’

‘If we go out there tooled up, we’re dead anyway,’ said Macdonald. He backed away from Owen. The Glaswegian ripped his shotgun free with a roar. He aimed it at Macdonald as the warehouseman slumped to his knees.

Macdonald kept backing away. ‘I’ve no problem with you, Jock,’ he said, ‘or you, Jeff. I just want out of here.’

There was a loud bang at the entrance and they all jumped. As the Glaswegian turned to look at the metal door, Macdonaldsprinted down the warehouse. He ducked between two towering stacks of pallets, then zigzagged right, left and right again. He dropped the shotgun and kicked it under a pallet, then sprinted towards the rear of the warehouse. Behind him he heard the metal door crash open, then the staccato shouts of men who were used to their orders being obeyed. ‘Armed police! Down on the floor, now! Down, down, down!’