‘What is it?’ Marsh asked. ‘Bed wire?’ He placed his finger tip on the point. ‘Got to admit, it’s pretty sharp,’ he said, looking at the drop of blood on his finger. ‘You might just be able to kill some cunt with this. Of course, you’d have to hit a vital organ. Most would go for the heart, but I’d probably go for the liver. Maybe the kidneys. It wouldn’t kill straight away, but that’s the point. The infection from this filthy thing would kill ’em nice and slow. Is that blood? Looks like Grubby forgot to clean it.’

‘You told me not to, boss,’ Grub said.

‘Shut up, you idiot,’ Marsh said. ‘Anyway, turns out the bald fella’s got AIDS. ‘Wonder if this is his blood? I’m sure a smart fella like you could work out the odds. Actually, Grub, give us the other one too.’

Grub handed him the second shiv, also uncleaned and bloodied. He placed them both on the table.

‘So, no,’ Marsh said, ‘you’re not a hard cunt, and no one is scared of you. Mario Kart and Jurassic Park would have already killed you, if it wasn’t for me. So, and for the second time, mind you, I went ahead and did you a favour. I put word out that you were my boy. You’re only alive because of me. I would have let the useless cunts kill you had I made myself clear the first time. My fault. My bad. I made the mistake of thinking you were smart. Anyway, I am going to spell it out for you now. Make it nice and simple.’

Marsh reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. ‘All the details are here,’ he said, opening up the A4 sheet. ‘How to pay. When to pay. How much to pay.

‘Give Bluey a hand, would ya, Grub?’ Marsh said.

Grub pulled a plastic zip tie from his pocket and walked towards Jax. As he approached, Bluey swiftly and smoothly swapped the headlock for an armlock, moving with the skill of a professional wrestler as he first pulled Jax’s arms behind his back and then pinned them there. Grub reach down and pulled Jax’s hands together before threading and reefing the zip tie. Jax was cuffed, hands behind his back, and helpless.

He looked around for a guard. There wasn’t one. The two who were patrolling the room when he arrived had disappeared.

Marsh leaned across the table, put the buy-up form on Jax’s right thigh and patted the paper down. ‘Now, which one do you want?’ he said as he looked at the shivs. ‘I’m not good at maths, but I’m pretty sure you have a fifty-fifty chance of picking the one with the AIDS. So, which will it be?’

Jax didn’t respond. He was still scanning his memory bank.