‘One of my guys is missing, laddie,’ he says finally. ‘I sent him on a job to a pill shop and he never came back.’

Faber straightens his tie, breathing a little better. This is all a misunderstanding.

‘Mike. I know this is your town, everybody knows it. I would never . . .’

Madden talks right over him. ‘I sent him to a pill shop. And here you are with a couple of barrels. Full of pills, are they?’

‘Not your pills. Not yours, Mike. How stupid do you think I am?’

Mike sighs, like the truth makes him sad. ‘Money makes people stupid, laddie. That’s life.’

Faber scoops a handful of blue pills from the open barrel. ‘Steroids is all, Mike. Just steroids. Not your territory. No profit in them hardly.’

‘Is that so?’ Mike dances across to the barrel, casually slapping Faber’s final guy on the cheek on his way past. ‘Let’s have a little look-see.’ He tips the barrel, sending thousands of blue pills bobbling across the floor. Faber pulls one foot up, like it’s piranha-infested water coming his way.

‘Whaddya know. You weren’t lying. Just pills is all.’

And suddenly Madden’s smile disappears. ‘Open the other barrel, counsellor.’

Faber is a smart guy. He gets it then.

‘Oh, Christ. I see. There’s a . . . I got an explanation for you. Probably . . .’

Mike pulls out his cell phone, navigating through the touch-screen menus.

‘So I’m enjoying a late-night bottle of Jameson with my little colleen, when this text message comes through.’ He tosses the phone to Faber, who lets it drip through his hands a few times before he gets a grip. ‘Read it for me.’

Faber reads it to himself first, and whatever blood is in his face drains out of it.

‘Jesus,’ he breathes. ‘Oh God.’

‘Out loud!’ roars Mike, suddenly on his tiptoes. ‘Out loud, you crooked ginger bastard.’

He clicks his fingers and one of his guys drops Faber’s man with a single shot. The man dies quiet, sliding down the wall with no change of expression.

Faber drops the phone and starts crying.

‘Pick it up.’

This is difficult for Faber to comprehend. All his life he’s been talking people out of trouble, and now suddenly here’s this immovable object.

‘Pick up the goddamn phone.’

Faber falls to his knees and has to clasp the phone in both hands before he can steady it enough to make out what’s on the screen.

‘Now, if you’d be so kind . . .’

And Faber reads the message in a hitching voice, filled with fear and phlegm.

‘I’m in a barrel at The Brass Ring. Bleeding real bad. Faber did this . . .’ The lawyer stops, unable to finish.

‘And . . .’

‘Please, Mike. I didn’t do this.’

‘Read the fucking rest of it.’

Faber takes a few deep breaths. ‘It says . . . It says . . .’