The difference in their size was significant – Hale large, Burrell surprisingly small – and right now only Hale was armed. But the look on Burrell’s face said that he would act if he could.

Hale would not give him the chance.

‘Get on the floor. Face first with your arms outstretched ahead.’

Burrell stayed exactly where he was. His eyes had now left the pistol. They were instead fixed on Hale’s own, their message one of intense anger. Hale could see the murderous intent within them; he could somehow almost feel it on his own skin. Burrell’s threat was now electric in the air. And surprisingly effective. Hale was not easily intimidated. But somehow Ed Burrell – a small man with eight guns now aimed directly at him – was managing exactly that.

‘On the floor, Burrell,’ Hale forced more confidence back into his voice. Raised it to a shout. ‘NOW!’

Burrell did not move. Hale could see why. The man was weighing his options. Would he comply? Or would they have to force him? There was no doubt how this would end. With Burrell face down and cuffed. But the journey to that conclusion was in Burrell’s hands.

‘I won’t ask again.’ Enough was enough. A message that was clear in Hale’s voice. ‘Get on the damn floor or I’m gonna put you there.’

Burrell’s intensity did not lessen, but his resistance did. He seemed to have realised the futility of his position. Slowly he put his hands behind his head and dropped to his knees. One at a time, his eyes never leaving Hale’s as he descended. The anger was still there. The hate. But they had been overruled by reality.

Burrell could not win this. Not now. And there was no point in being injured for a lost cause.

He lowered his upper body to the floor and stretched his arms out ahead of him, awaiting the inevitable cuffs. Hale kept his pistol steady throughout; still aimed, but now at Burrell’s head. He did not lower the weapon until two SO19 officers had secured Burrell’s wrists behind his back and lifted him from the floor.

Hale stepped back as Burrell was pulled from the room. He returned Burrell’s stare as the smaller man passed him. The animosity was obvious. Hale did not doubt that, if given the slightest chance, Burrell would have killed him where he stood.

‘Nice guy.’ Hale approached King as Burrell was bundled through the door. His heart was racing. ‘He definitely chose the right career.’

‘I don’t think the priesthood was ever an option,’ King replied. ‘Nasty little bastard.’

‘Let’s hope we can keep him off the streets, then,’ Hale said, before taking a few moments to survey the room. ‘Does this remind you of anywhere?’

‘You mean Ferris’s office?’

‘Exactly. It’s like Burrell’s paying tribute. Only with a cheaper version.’

‘Makes sense,’ King replied. ‘By all accounts Burrell was obsessed with Ferris. But judging by this place it might be more than that. This makes it look like he wanted to actually be Ferris.’