He slowed the car down. They were on the Rainham road, and he parked in a layby. ‘We’re here. The farm entrance is down the end of this lane.’

Michael got out of the car. It was raining hard now. Opening up the boot, he took out a large handgun, and passed it to Declan. He took out a Glock 22 for himself. It was his weapon of choice – lightweight, and easy to use; it was also easy to dispose of. It could be stripped down to nothing.

‘I am so looking forward to meeting Mr Steven Golding, and blowing his fucking head right off.’

He shut the car boot carefully. He turned towards his old friend, and said gravely, ‘I will never forget how good you’ve been to me, Declan, through all of this. I really have appreciated how you’ve stood by me through everything. I know that you have talked me down on more than one occasion, and stopped me from screwing this up completely. I appreciate just how good a friend you are, Declan.’

Declan was moved by Michael’s words; he knew how hard it was for him to even say them. ‘Look, Michael, you know that I will always have your back.’

Michael grinned sadly. ‘Do you know the worst thing about this for me? The one thing that I’ve learnt from this shit is that it all means nothing. Everything that we’ve worked for, everything that we’ve achieved, all the fucking stunts we’ve pulled to get what we wanted from life, all that planning, and forward thinking, all those fucking years we put into it and it turned out that it was for sweet F A, sweet fuck-all. We chased the fucking dollar day and night, living the so-called dream! The leaders of everyone around us, responsible for every fucking earn, as well as the people who we allow to gather up said earn for us. And it was a fucking waste of time. We have squandered so much of our lives accumulating money, power, things and, in reality, neither of us has a single thing of use to show for any of it. How fucking sad is that?’

Declan shrugged theatrically, and he said with a laugh, ‘Well, when you put it like that, Michael . . .’

Michael was amazed to hear himself laughing, but he was. If anyone had said that he could have found any amusement in this situation he would have thought them mad. But Declan Costello had made him laugh, and that was something good. It felt so good to laugh, to really laugh, to find some humour at last.

They looked at each other for a few moments and then they walked side by side towards White Farm.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty-Five

Chapter One Hundred
and Thirty-Five