Lance felt a sensation of self-loathing like he’d never experienced before. He’d thought he was being clever, distracting the man, keeping him talking, but it was him being played. Nothing like a well-educated psychopath holding a gun to ruin your day, he thought bitterly as Janet produced her mobile and handed it over.

‘Good, now lie on your back on the floor,’ the man instructed her.

Lance saw panic on her face and knew it reflected his own.

‘You said an answer for an answer,’ he said. ‘I asked who you are.’

‘I used to be someone,’ the man said. ‘Now I’ve become something more. I’m The Crow.’

Sod it, Lance thought, the last dregs of hope seeping into the carpet along with the blood from Janet’s dripping nose. Not just intelligent but deeply deranged. That was just bloody great.

‘No, I’m not,’ The Crow said.

‘Not what?’ Lance asked.

‘Not crazy,’ he smiled. ‘I know what you were thinking. You have a very expressive face. I doubt you’ve ever been able to hide anything from the people who know you best. Unlike Janet, here. Not a word since I arrived. Cautious, quiet, guarded. Not at all what I was expecting.’

Janet spat a mouthful of blood across the floor and took a deep breath.

‘I called for help,’ she said, gasping for breath.

The Crow laughed. ‘Called for help? Who’s coming? Who could you possibly have in your contacts book who’s going to race in here and rescue you?’ He picked up her mobile and tapped the screen. ‘Max? He must be an impressive specimen if you think he’s going to pick a fight with a man holding a gun. And what did you say to him?’ He scrolled down the screen. ‘999. Very dramatic, except he might just think you’ve run out of petrol or lost your credit card. He’s hardly going to be knocking your door down any time soon.’

‘Max Tripp,’ Janet said. ‘You’ve met him.’

A shadow passed over The Crow’s face. ‘Tripp?’ he repeated vaguely. ‘Where do I …?’

‘He’s a detective from the Major Investigation Team,’ Janet said. ‘He works with DI Callanach.’

‘Of course,’ The Crow said.

He lurched forwards, grabbing the back of Janet’s neck with his left hand and thrusting the gun under her chin, dragging her to the floor, shoving her onto her knees then kicking her hard in the hip and ribs.

‘On your back,’ he said. ‘Right now. Enough talking.’

‘Stop kicking her,’ Lance shouted, flying forwards, sending a punch in The Crow’s direction as Janet collapsed on the floor.

He stumbled and his fist struck air as The Crow brought an open hand towards the side of Lance’s head and swiped towards the floor.