‘What are you doing?’ Garcia seemed confused.

‘Let me have your lighter,’ Dempsey said, making no effort to explain.

‘But—’

‘Just pass me your lighter, Freddie.’

Garcia did as was asked, handing Dempsey a cheap, neon plastic lighter. Dempsey placed it close to the first of his two shoulder wounds, took a deep breath and flicked a flame into life.

The smell of burning flesh was almost instant, as the layer of gunpowder was set alight. Dempsey gritted down on his teeth at the pain. He had to suppress his natural instinct to beat at the flame.

‘JESUS!!’

Garcia jumped backwards at the sight, horrified. A reaction that was only amplified as Dempsey set alight his second wound in the same way.

‘ARE YOU CRAZY?’

Dempsey did not answer. The pain was too much; it was all he could do to stop himself from crying out. Instead he used his ruined shirt to tamp out the first wound’s flame, then the second.

Each had been alight for around two seconds.

Long enough to cauterise, Dempsey told himself.

He took a deep breath and only then did he notice the room of shocked faces around him.

‘I had to stop the bleeding,’ he explained.

Dempsey pointed to a leather jacket hanging on one of the staff coat hooks. He recognised it as belonging to Marlon, the only doorman larger than Dempsey himself. Which would make it the perfect fit.

‘Freddie, pass me Marlon’s jacket,’ he said.

Dempsey had no doubt now that he would be obeyed. Self-cauterisation was a sure way to raise a person’s stock in the eyes of other men. And so he was unsurprised when Garcia did as asked without question.

He pulled the jacket over his now bare torso, wincing at the pain of both movement and contact. Once on, he zipped up the front, placed his leather envelope into the inside pocket and turned to Garcia one last time.

‘Take care of yourself, Freddie. And when you’re asked, it wouldn’t hurt if you told them I headed uptown.’

FIFTY-ONE

‘So are you coming with me?’

Grace turned to see Dempsey walking towards her. He had changed clothes. A leather jacket in place of his bloodied white shirt.

He had been gone just minutes, but it had been long enough. She had shaken off the shock of Braddock’s death. There was no time to process that she had taken his life. Not now. There was only staying alive.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘Away from here for a start,’ Dempsey replied. ‘That’s all that matters for now.’

It was not in Grace’s nature to act without a plan in place. But now was not time to argue that point.

‘Whatever. I’m with you.’

‘Good.’ Dempsey glanced at her hand. ‘Holster the weapon.’

Grace looked down and noticed the pistol in her hand. She had forgotten she was even holding it.

Perhaps my head hasn’t cleared that much.

She concealed the Glock and followed as Dempsey led the way out of the service entrance and into the street outside.