Another yank. A fresh wave of pain swept through every nerve in Porter’s body. Christ, he muttered, making sure he kept his mouth open and the word to himself. He could feel the sweat dripping off his brow. The woman said something to Hassad. Porter opened his eyes. He could tell the wrench was still clamped to his tooth. Hassad was leaning into the wrench, a grimace on his face. Porter steeled himself, shut his eyes tight and gripped hard on the sides of the chair. He could feel the force of the wrench smashing into his gums. Then a snapping sound. A searing pain ran up through his mouth, colliding inside his head.

He opened his eyes. He could feel some blood hitting the back of his throat, and washing across his tongue. The side of his mouth was numb from the impact. In front of him, Hassad was holding the tooth inside the wrench, showing it to the old woman. There was still some blood dripping from the stem. ‘It’s clean,’ said Hassad with a shrug. ‘Maybe it’s the other one.’

‘Christ!’

As he spoke, some blood and fragments of broken tooth spat clean from his mouth.

Hassad nodded towards the old woman. ‘I wouldn’t take the name of any of the prophets in vain in here,’ he said casually. ‘She’s very devout, and Muslims revere Jesus as well as Muhammad. Make her angry, and she might not be so gentle with you.’

Porter closed his eyes. The pain was stinging through his jaw, but he knew there was no choice. There has to be some explanation for how they found out where I was, and I can’t think of a better one. If we don’t pull the tooth, Collinson’s going to have his men onto us any moment, and then I’ll never get a chance to kill the bastard. ‘Then do it.’

He could feel the tapping of the scalpel, then the cold hard steel of the wrench clamping on to his tooth. This time it was on the right side of his mouth. The woman moved away, and as he briefly opened his eyes, Porter could see Hassad gripping hold of the wrench with his muscular fists. Even with the wound in his shoulder, he was a strong guy. Porter gripped on to the strip of leather. He twisted hard on it, pulling it between both hands. Closing his eyes again, he could feel a stuttering series of jabbing pains as Hassad started to put pressure on the tooth. There was nasty crunching sound inside, and he could feel more blood trickling into the back of his throat where the wrench was nicking against the side of his gums.

‘One more heave,’ Hassad muttered.

He slammed his fist down hard. Porter’s head snapped sideways. The force of the blow was ripping into his neck muscles, making it impossible for him to hold himself steady. The pain was searing through him now, making his eyes water and his head spin. It was like having a jackhammer drill into the side of your jaw. ‘Hold his head,’ Hassad growled to the old woman.