I began pulling things from Trey’s baggy trousers. First a small cellophane wrap of white powder. ‘What’s this, coke? That’s up to seven years in prison for possession.’ Next a lightweight pair of knuckle-dusters. ‘Possession of an offensive weapon in a public place? That’s another four years. I don’t even have to plant anything on you, do I, tough guy?’ Then a lottery ticket. I laughed. ‘Your luck just ran out, Trey.’

And then his phone.

I pressed the photos icon. Then there were a number of options. All photos. Videos. Bursts. Recently Deleted. I pressed Recently Deleted. And I saw a crowded club. Laughter. Screams. And then Justin Whitestone staggering towards the camera, the blood streaming from his ruined eyes.

‘You piece of shit,’ I said, and banged the back of his head with his phone. His legs buckled but he didn’t go down.

‘I know my rights,’ he laughed, and I saw something that I had not expected.

He wasn’t scared of me.

And I needed him to be scared of me.

This was never going to work unless he was scared of me.

‘Max,’ Jackson said. ‘We’ve got company.’

A car tooled slowly into the car park, music coming from inside, four faces, three black and one white, staring out as it circled us in a wide arc. The car stopped, its engine still running. Four doors came open. Jackson was already walking toward them as they got out.

‘Nothing to see here,’ he said to the first one, the driver, and hit him in the centre of his face with the palm of his hand, propelling him backwards, blood all over the hands clawing at the flattened nose. Jackson’s right hand, the same hand that had executed the palm strike, was raised in what looked like a peace sign until he carefully drove the fingertips of his index and middle finger into the driver’s eyes.

Then the other three were on him.

And Jackson took them out.

He slammed the side of his right foot against a knee and then his left foot into somebody else’s knee.

A few wild blows rained down on him but not for long. He waded into them with his low, hard kicks to the knees and his hands and his elbows in their eyes. I was starting to understand his fighting technique. Knees and eyes. That’s what he went for and it is difficult to do much of anything, let alone fight back, when your knees or your eyes are gone.

All you can do is crawl away.

And that is what they did.

The four of them crawled away.

Somehow they got into the car and took off.