Declan wasn’t so sure Jessie was this sweet young thing her father was describing, but if that was what Michael wanted to believe, he was happy to go along with it. In his opinion, Jessie Flynn was a selfish little fucker, who never had the sense to see how fucking lucky she was, and who had never appreciated just how loved and adored she was. She was a user, and she had used everyone around her. But Declan was shrewd enough to keep his own counsel; there were some things you couldn’t tell people – they just didn’t want to hear them.

‘Well, Michael, you know her better than anyone, mate.’

Michael’s phone vibrated and he picked it up, opening the text message. He was shocked to see a picture of his Jessie. She was shackled to a bed, looking ill and very frightened.

‘Oh, my God.’

He passed the phone to Declan, who looked at the picture with abject horror. Jessie looked terrified, and she also looked like she was starving. He could see her ribcage in startling detail. He zoomed in so he could see the picture better, and he could see that her ankles were rubbed raw from the iron shackles. It looked as if the bones were exposed, and there were faeces on the floor around the bed. It was a wicked, vicious picture sent to cause the maximum of hurt.

It was her eyes, though, that really bothered him. They were looking right into the camera, and there was no life in them. They were already dead. He was so shocked, he couldn’t speak for a few minutes.

Michael had crossed his arms over his chest and he was hugging himself. As he rocked himself to and fro, Declan was shocked to realise that the man was openly crying. Michael Flynn was sobbing like a baby; it was terrible to see him brought so low.

Declan forced himself into action. He picked up his phone and he rang a man called Arthur Hellmann. He was a technological wizard, and he had worked for everyone who was anyone. He also had a serious gambling habit, and he had owed money all over the Smoke. It had been Michael’s idea to pay his debts off and get him into the firm. Now Declan hoped the man could use his expertise to track down the mobile phone Golding was using. It was clutching at straws, but it was all they had. Michael Flynn needed to feel like he was doing something, now more than ever. That image of young Jessie had achieved its goal; it was further proof that they didn’t have any control over this situation whatsoever.

When he came off the phone, he looked at Michael sadly. ‘I’m going to up the security at your house, Michael. I think this proves we can’t take any chances.’