‘Yeah…’ Steve the first to answer. ‘But the sort of copper who’d have that information wouldn’t have the time to do the prep. Given that being a detective is a day job, and not nine to five neither. Whereas the blokes with the time tend to be woodentops on shift. And, given the .22 was probably a rental, you show me a woodentop with those sorts of contacts.’

‘Unless he was some sort of arms dealer on the side.’

Mickey’s glance flicked to Den. An unusually perceptive Den, if only he’d known it.

Deano voiced what they were all thinking. ‘A beat copper who’s a gun dealer? Fuck me Den, you could write for Line of Duty, you mad bastard!’

The cue for all-round amusement. Even Den grinned at the thought. And Mickey took care to ensure he looked as amused as his mates. While feeling cold fingers brush his spine.

‘Anyway, doesn’t really matter who he is, not unless it’s fucking Batman. Because when Joe catches up with him…’ Deano looked around the table for confirmation ‘…and we know he’s going to catch up with the prick, right? When that happens, he’ll have the poor bastard skinned and dipped in brine, just for starters. It’ll take days for that mug to go to meet his maker, with Joe recording the whole thing for an edited highlights package.’

‘Why’s he going to bother with that?’

Deano gave Den a slight sad smile.

‘Den. Mate. Just when I thought you were right on the money, buddy. He has to make an example of the geezer, doesn’t he? Has to show everyone who’s got an interest in his falling off his perch that he’s still the big dog. And what better way than to torture the bloke who’s been chopping away at his empire to death on camera? All set for a few private screenings to prove to the competition that he’s still the same lovable psychopath. Trust me, whoever it is that’s been stupid enough to start this vendetta is going to wish they’d never been born. And so will anyone they care about.’

21

‘So this is your hacker, right?’

Joe stared at the kid before him with poorly disguised disbelief. Although, to be fair, the outward signs weren’t all that auspicious. A skinny, nerdy-looking teenager wearing ripped jeans and a death metal tee. Nondescript trainers and a baseball cap. The sort of look that’d get him a good kicking if he strayed onto gang turf. Except, Eddie suspected, anyone giving this kid a shooing would pay for it. Big style. Their credit rating in the toilet for the next ten years. Their mobile devices infested with all sorts of nasty shit. Or worse, planted child pornography. With the police called. Now that he’d seen what the kid could do, he had no illusions on that subject.