Declan puffed on his cigar for a few moments. ‘Jeffrey Palmer was in the new club having a few drinks, and who should turn up there mob-handed, full of drink, drugs and God knows what else? Only Kelvin McCarthy. He homed straight in on Jeffrey. It was fucking outrageous, Michael. Jeffrey was good in all fairness, he swallowed a lot. More than I fucking would have if it was me. But it got out of hand. Jeffrey was going to give him a well-deserved slap, and Kelvin pulled a gun on him – in full view of everyone. Thank fuck we were in the top bar. Most of the people there know the score. But it was fucking hairy, I tell you. He would have shot him and all, but young Danny Kirby wrestled the gun off him. He is worth watching, that lad. He saved us all a fucking serious nightmare tonight. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I have got Kelvin in there.’ He gestured towards the door that led to the other room in the Portakabin. ‘We bundled Kelvin out of there as fast as we could. But Jeffrey Palmer is not going to let this drop, and who could blame him? It was a public humiliation. It’s just that Kelvin’s father is a different kettle of fish as you know. Christie McCarthy is a fucking known Face, and he has a big crew behind him. He also has a son who is about as much use as a nun’s cunt. The bugbear is he is still his son.’