Sudden light in complete darkness can have a strange effect upon both the eyes and the brain. Especially a flickering light, like that generated by a television screen. Reid had grown used to it. To the strange images that would appear in his peripheral vision, only to disappear an instant later. It happened all the time and was no cause for concern.

Except for when it was. Except for now.

At first Reid had ignored the figure in the corner of the room, dismissing it as just another figment brought on by the change from dark to light. Reid had no need to convince himself that the image would go. That it would disappear. He just knew that it would.

But it did not. Not in an instant. Not even in a second.

Reid’s heart rate doubled as he jumped to his feet, suddenly realising that what he was seeing was no figment. That it was no trick of his mind. His headache disappeared as the reality hit, his hangover washed away by shock.

‘You’ve let yourself go, Mr Reid.’ The voice was soulless. Empty. ‘Too much luxury in your life.’

Reid could feel the vein in his temple thump. Blood pressure in action. His world was spinning, his breathing laboured from the shock of the last seconds.

Reid had to regain control. Had to calm.

‘You feeling a bit sick?’

That voice again. Something Reid recognised. His brain tried to place it.

‘The shock a bit too much for you, is it?’

There was no joy in the tone. The words were mocking but the voice remained flat.

‘That’ll be the heavy living, Mr Reid. All those expensive dinners.’

The voice was ever more familiar. Whatever memory was being jogged in Reid’s mind was getting closer, and the effort to reach it was somehow calming him.

The figure stepped forward. Out of the corner and towards Reid.

The only light in the room was the TV. It was not enough. Reid could not make out the man’s face in the darkness.

‘Who are you?’

Reid’s voice was strong. Not a trace of fear. It surprised even Reid himself.

‘Me? I’m someone who hasn’t had all those expensive dinners that made you so fat, Mr Reid. I’m someone who hasn’t had all of that fine wine you’re killing yourself with.’

‘I don’t understand.’ Reid almost had it. The memory. So close he could almost touch it. A fact he did not intend to share. ‘I don’t know you.’

‘Oh, you know me.’ Finally some life in the voice. Some genuine bitterness. ‘You’ll have thought about me many times, Mr Reid. But not as often as I’ve thought about you.’

The figure stepped closer. Just as the flickering light brightened. It illuminated the room for just a moment. It was long enough.

‘Hirst.’ Everything about the man came to Reid at once. None of it was welcome. ‘Karl Hirst.’

‘See, Mr Reid. I told you you’d remember.’ The words were gloating but the tone was empty once again. It gave nothing away. ‘And do you remember everything else, Mr Reid?’