‘You need to preserve your energy, Danny. You may have a long wait. But then’ – Danny heard a snap of fingers – ‘I have a good feeling it will be over just like that!’ Danny gurgled again, lower, deeper, a real attempt to form words. He was still trying to beg. ‘Because, you see, you killed a man’s wife. Forty years of marriage’ – another snap – ‘gone! You were driving a stolen car, you mounted a pavement and you took her out, Danny. And to add insult to injury you even killed the poor man’s beloved dog! You left him nothing. A life ruined and with nothing more to do than to spend every waking moment since then seeking vengeance. See, it’s all in here.’

The light was suddenly gone, blocked by a jet-black folder held above his eyes. It looked identical to the folder Danny had held a few days before, the one he had flicked through to read about the man who had been seated in front of him, the one that had contained the words that had convinced him to blow the back of the man’s head off. Only now he was swamped with doubt that anything he had read had been true. He gargled again then forced a moan. His teeth bit the solid object so hard it hurt.

‘Everything is in here. About how you stole a car, drove it drunk while showing off to the people you were with – you’re a local legend, after all – and then you saw this poor man’s wife walking her dog along the pavement. So you aimed for her, knocking her down and leaving her to die.’

Now the sounds from Danny’s throat were fuelled by rage. It shook him in his seat and the ropes flexed a little on one side but there was no real give. He was wasting his time. He fell still, only his chest rising and falling with the exertion. He could feel his pulse beating in his head and he shut his eyes as the light still flickered above to dazzle him. The light jogged a memory, the last one he had. He was in the hotel bar, drinking in the afternoon, trying to wash away the memory of what he had done. The man in the suit had turned up. Danny had taken the gun with him when he had left and it was still in the boot of his car. The man wanted it; it was part of cleaning up. Danny had been glad to give him the keys but the man had stayed. Danny didn’t know why, it was all so hazy. He remembered a bright light. White, just like the one that flickered at him now. Only this one hadn’t flickered, this had been a block: a doorway! He remembered walking out the door, into sunlight, the suited man supporting him because he couldn’t walk on his own. There was nothing after that.