‘You have my word.’

Jamal sat and waited in the darkness, fidgeting with his clothes until Heath returned a few minutes later. Heath was carrying a black leather briefcase with a gold metal coloured combination lock to either side of the handle. He handed Jamal the case, looming above him as he rested it on his lap. Jamal went to open it but found it locked.

‘The money’s in here?’

Heath nodded in the light of the flickering flame. ‘The combination is four-five-seven-one. Open it, and the cash is yours.’

As Jamal focused, squinting, eyes narrowed, concentrating all his attention on turning the tiny dials, Heath took a recently sharpened carving knife from the rear waistband of his tight linen trousers. He plunged the steel blade deep into his victim’s neck, slicing through flesh and sinew until the point made contact with the bone. Heath struck again as Jamal slumped forward, blood flowing from his fatal wounds. Heath repeated the process, raising the weapon high above his head and bringing it crashing down time and again, until Jamal fell from the seat, collapsing to the floor with a mix of blood and saliva bubbling from his open mouth.

Heath was panting hard as he dragged Jamal’s blood-soaked corpse across the hall tiles and into a prepared room, the entire floor of which was covered in plastic sheeting. He positioned the body at the approximate centre point of the room, the various items of furniture already pushed aside. He’d switched on the light to illuminate the process but dismembering Jamal’s now naked corpse was significantly more demanding than he’d expected.

The hacksaw blade was more than a match for the flesh, but cutting through bone was another matter entirely. It took a great deal of effort, and by the time Heath pushed the final limb aside about forty minutes later, he was utterly exhausted, covered in slowly congealing blood and other body fluids from head to foot. Heath flopped to the filthy plastic, lying prone only inches from the decapitated head, and slept for an hour or so to regain his strength.

Heath rose from his butcher’s floor at a little after 1.45 a.m., wrapping each body part in a black plastic bin bag, and secured with lengths of green parcel tape. Heath then placed the gory packages in two family-sized suitcases, ready for later disposal. He stripped off his soiled clothing, showered, and then dressed in fresh attire.

He carried each burdensome case into the street and placed them in the boot of his car, taking every caution to avoid noise that could bring any attention to his activities.

It took him about twenty minutes to reach the river, in a quiet area of the countryside about seven miles from the centre of town.

He had a cautionary conversation with his long-gone mother as he lifted each case from the car in turn, and then dropped them, one at a time, into the fast-flowing mix of salt and freshwater.

‘Were you watching, Mother? Did you see what I’ve done?’