Kelvin could detect no real anger, and he felt himself relax a little. The fact he had been brought here worried him. He knew enough about the Life to realise that Michael Flynn wasn’t a man to be crossed lightly and that even his father would balk at a face-to-face with him.

As he was sobering up, and coming down from the pills he had popped like sweets, he understood for the first time in his life that he was in real trouble.

‘I’m twenty-six.’

Michael didn’t answer him immediately. He just stood there looking at him. Under the man’s gaze, Kelvin felt the first flush of shame wash over him.

‘Did you hear that, Declan? He’s twenty-six years old, for fuck’s sake.’

Declan Costello knew how to play the game, so he said nonchalantly, ‘I heard him all right.’

‘Fucking amazing though, isn’t it, Declan? Twenty-six, and a completely fucking useless cunt. That has got to hurt your old man – he has to be ashamed of you, Kelvin. Can I call you Kelvin, by the way?’

Kelvin McCarthy nodded his agreement. He didn’t know what else to do; he had never been in a situation like this in his life. ‘’Course you can. It’s my name, after all.’ He tried to lighten the heavy atmosphere that permeated the room, acting like he wasn’t bothered about being trussed up like a chicken and unable to move.

Michael Flynn stared at him for long moments. Kelvin McCarthy watched him warily. His eyes were ice cold; he looked capable of anything. Kelvin knew instinctively that he was. He possessed no fear of anyone or anything.

‘You can call me Mr Flynn.’