Both men automatically assuming that this was the work of their mystery assassin. They looked at each other. Joe spoke, his voice thinly controlled rage.

‘Get the boys out. Mob-handed and properly tooled up. I want every building within half a mile of that chippy eyeballed. Industrial units first, derelict buildings at the top of the list. Searched, if possible. With consent if we can get it. Get them to spin a story about a missing kid or something that’ll open doors.’

‘And if anyone resists?’

‘I’m going out there too. Rocco can mind me until we get Lewis back.’ Joe pointed at the screen. ‘Anyone wants to keep us out, I’ll have some meaningful conversation with them. I can be very meaningful, when I put my mind to it.’ He stood, reaching for his coat. ‘And tell the boys to come out ready for a two- or three-dayer. If this bastard’s got the brass balls to take Lewis, then he’s got the stones to come after me.’

41

‘So, Lewis, my old mucker. How’s it going?’

The enforcer was panting like a long-distance runner. His nostrils flared with the pain. Teeth clenched. Having screamed himself hoarse half an hour before.

‘Looks like you’re finding that hard work. If only you’d settled for the bullet, eh? You could even have smoked that nice cigar. Instead of which…’ Mickey looked down the bathtub’s length. ‘Instead of which the skin’s probably coming off your legs by now. And your prick and balls. You still have a choice though. Right now all I’ve done is inflict an ocean of pain on you. But it’s going to get worse. A whole lot worse. I’m going to bury you up to your neck and leave you to fry. There’s enough mix ready to fill that bath to the brim. And once I start pouring, I’m not stopping no matter what you say. And when you’re done, I think I’ll pay your parents a visit. If your victims don’t get to benefit from all that money, neither should they. So. Last chance. Bullet or cement?’

The information he wanted spilled from Lewis’s mouth so fast he had to wait until the enforcer had calmed enough to speak slowly enough to be understood. Mickey held a burner phone up to his mouth. Then talked to Martin at the other end while Lewis puffed and groaned at the pain.

‘Did you get that?’

‘Yeah, logging in now.’ After thirty seconds of silence his friend spoke again, his tone reverential. ‘Fuck. Me.’

‘How much?’

‘Two and a half million. Give or take.’

‘And you can transfer money out?’

‘Hang on…’ Clicking, as Martin tapped at his keyboard. ‘Yeah, but there’s a check on new payments. Texts to his phone.’

Mickey shrugged.