Ballard looked relieved. Go on then, fuck off. But he didn’t. He leaned against the passage wall, frowning at Fez’s suit. ‘So – whya you here? Thought you’d packed it in?’

He shrugged. Maybe in Ballard’s alcoholic haze he would accept that as some kind of answer.

Ballard frowned, trying to focus as he stepped away from the wall, his face just centimetres from Fez’s. ‘Here – you’re banned. Shouldn’ be here.’

Nothing for it. Fez slammed a flat left hand into Ballard’s chest so he fell back towards the wall, leaving enough space between them for him to draw down the weapon in his right. Keeping his left high and out of the way of the shot, he pivoted the weapon as soon as it was free of the holster and fired.

Immediately he stepped back to ensure there was no blood on him as Ballard slid down the passage wall. Shit, what now? He looked up and down the corridor, got his bearings and, gripping Ballard by the armpits, pulled the lifeless body towards the door to a store room.

He had to move quickly now. A loud pumping beat of the sort of music he loathed thumped above the hubbub of partying revellers behind the swing doors. He put his head in and spoke to the nearest couple. ‘The guv’nor still in there?’

‘He was ’bout half an hour ago.’

‘Thanks.’ He moved on through the crowd. He saw a pair of bouncers standing sentry in identical suits, little coils running from their ears into their collars, their ISA ID armbands ungainly over their jackets. They looked ridiculous, bloated by steroids and too much muscle to be useful. More like a pair of bouncy castles. They were preoccupied with a group of pissed hoorays, who were arguing loudly. He steered away from them, deeper into the throng, a heaving mass of mostly young bodies, the same age as the ones he had just dropped downstairs. He felt his pulse step up a level. Two banners had been hung across the room. One said, ‘Victory!’ and the other ‘Tomorrow Belongs to Us’. On the stage a youth with a ludicrously exaggerated blond quiff was crooning into a mic but his voice was inaudible. He saw one of the party officials and elbowed his way towards her. She was well pissed, gyrating drunkenly against her partner.

He nodded towards the stage. ‘Where is he?’

She frowned. ‘Who are you?’

And who the fuck are you? he felt like saying.

‘Oh, yeah, right. Probably gone to get his head down, I should think.’ She gestured upwards. ‘Been on his feet the last two nights, poor man.’

Her partner pulled her back towards him. He thanked her with a curt nod, extricated himself from the crowd and headed in the direction of the lifts.

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