Now all Jax had to do was pour the acetone in and shake. But he wouldn’t do that yet. Not until the next day. Saturday. Not until Marsh and his boys were together, all in the same room.

‘YEAH, they’re out,’ Jax said when Marsh approached him in the yard before muster. ‘I was on the toilet all night, but all good, got them.’

‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Marsh asked. ‘A fucking invitation?’

‘They’re in my cell,’ Jax said. ‘I didn’t think you would want me to hand them over in the open. I’ll bring them to you straight after muster.’

‘It’s my job to think,’ Marsh said, ‘not yours. Bring them to me as soon as muster finishes. I’ll be in my room.’

I know you will be. That all of you will be.

Jax returned to his cell after roll call and placed the pineapple tin and the half-cut Coke can on his desk. He then gave an almost imperceptible bow before sitting on the floor with his back to the cell door, his legs crossed and his hands folded in his lap. As he half-closed his eyes and began to breathe, his mind began to clear. After a few minutes, he felt light and purposeful – centred.

It was the only way to save her.

Gradually, he released himself from the zazen meditation, the surrounds of his cell slowly coming back into focus. He didn’t bother praying for forgiveness or salvation. He’d made his choice. If there was a Hell, he’d be there soon.

JAX carefully placed the pineapple can on its side on the table, with the rough one-inch hole facing the ceiling. He held it steady with his left hand as he picked up the can of acetone with his right. He took a deep breath.

Theoretically, it shouldn’t explode. Not yet. He had placed his layer of makeshift shrapnel over the hydrogen peroxide powder, but that wouldn’t stop the liquid acetone from reaching it, only slow it down. Even when the two chemicals met, Jax would have about two minutes before they reacted to form TATP. And even when the hydrogen peroxide and acetone had yielded The Mother of Satan, it wouldn’t explode until set off by a spark, a detonator, or friction. Well, theoretically, anyway.

Jax held as breath as he tipped the can towards the hole. But he stopped abruptly, before any liquid came out, and muttered, ‘Shit.’ He’d just realised he didn’t know for sure what was contained in the four marble-sized balls. He’d assumed it was heroin. Was almost sure it was. But had it been cut? And with what? One of the thirty-two chemicals known to set off TATP?

He wanted to die – but not alone.

He sucked in a deep breath, gritted his teeth and winced as he tipped the can, the first drops quickly becoming a thin, steady stream.