‘Hurts, does it?’ Mickey stared down into furious eyes. ‘Excellent. But I’ll tell you what’s going to hurt a lot more.’ He gestured to the two comatose bodies. ‘I’ll tell you, you can tell them later. Because I want you all thinking hard about it. What’s going to hurt you a lot more than that? Not the police, obvs. They’re required by law to treat you carefully. You’ll get a doctor. Then a lawyer. Joe’ll send someone down to make sure you keep your mouths shut. Which you all will. Because you all know what Joe does to anyone he even suspects of grassing. You’ve heard the stories. We all have. So you’ll keep it shut. Won’t you?’

Fury instantly became fear. The trussed man nodded frantically. Mickey laughed.

‘Oh, don’t worry, you don’t need to convince me. For a start, I couldn’t give a shit what you do. And for another thing, it doesn’t even matter to me whether you talk or not. I’ve already done the damage I wanted. No, I only ask just to find out how stupid you are. And the answer’s clearly really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to keep Joe’s secrets until it’s too late.’

He paused, looking closely at his captive’s face. There it was. Confusion.

‘You mugs. You think all you have to do is keep quiet, do whatever time you’re handed. Keep your head down. Which you will. Sure that when you get out, Joe’ll have you collected. Which he will. And then… and you can trust me on this… you’ll vanish. Never to be seen again. You’ll end up in the cement.’

The captive shook his head in disbelief. Mickey shrugged.

‘Yeah. He’s an evil bastard when he’s crossed. And he’s already promised to make an example of the next members of his “family” to slip up.’ Mickey extended a hand to indicate his two fellow abusers, still both comatose. ‘I’d call this a slip-up, wouldn’t you? Think about that, while you’re waiting for the police.’

He took a moment to inventory his kit. Pocketed the Taser wires. Made sure he had everything he’d come with. Leaving no clues. Then stood and made his way downstairs and out the back door. Looked at his watch: 02.36. Took out the pay-as-you-go phone he’d purchased for cash earlier in the day. Made the call, number withheld. Tamara answered after a single ring.

‘Hello?’

‘Where are you?’

His voice distorted by a downloaded app. Understandable, but not recognisable.

‘Where we were told to wait, in the all-night caff on Washington Street.’