Cecil was also drunk. Unlike his older brother, though, drink mellowed him out. He loved the world, and everyone in it. Jack watched as Cecil staggered to the men’s room, all smiles and camaraderie. He was disgusted by his brother’s antics – he was like a fucking big girl’s blouse, so gormless it was embarrassing to watch him. Jack Cornel had one thing in his favour: even as drunk as a skunk, he was shrewd, and he never missed a chance that came his way. He had an in-built cunning that copious amounts of alcohol seemed to bring to the fore; he was one of the few people who actually functioned far better while under the influence of alcohol.

Glancing around, he noticed that the club was already almost empty. When he saw the doorman watching him, he knew immediately, without any doubt whatsoever, that there was something radically wrong. Years of living round two hopeless alcoholics had prepared him for the worst, and it had also taught him the need to have an escape plan at all times. He had not trusted the two young fellows who promised him Michael Flynn on a plate. He had felt from the off that they were just stooges. But he had counted on them producing the man in question at some point. He would then have happily taken his chance and, as he was in possession of two firearms, he felt his chances were much better than average; all he needed was a decent shot. He wasn’t about to play games – he just wanted to get in there, take the fucker out, and then bask in the glory.

Now, though, he felt the cold fingers of fear on his neck. There was something more going on here. He swallowed down his drink quickly, before turning to his young hosts and saying craftily, ‘I need a piss, lads, and I need to make sure that my little brother is still capable of cognitive thoughts and behaviour! Fill us up again – the night is young.’

He walked towards the men’s room slowly and carefully, knowing he was being observed from all angles. Inside the toilet, he looked at his younger brother, who was trying unsuccessfully to drain his bladder without soiling himself and his trousers too badly.

Cecil looked in the mirror at his brother and he grinned idiotically. ‘What a fucking great night, bruv!’