Even as he said it, the words stuck in his throat, but he had no choice. If he told them now, what was to stop them killing his father anyway? They already considered him a coward, might think that Tony had involved him in some way.

‘Did you go to the cops?’

‘No,’ Tony gasped, trying to spit the bile from his mouth.

Another blow, this time across the back with the wooden baton.

‘Who did you tell?’

‘No one.’

A blow to the stomach with his boot caused him to retch again, the pain in his innards searing.

‘Who did you tell?’

‘No one!’

Another blow, this time to the side of the head. Tony fell prostrate, his face pressed against the plastic sheeting, his head haloed in his own vomit. He lay there, looking sideways at this attacker’s feet, wondering whether it wouldn’t just be easier to tell the truth. They might understand, they might see why he’d wanted to protect Alice.

‘Leave him,’ Mullan said, and Tony saw the feet move backwards. He felt a touch on his shoulder, which stung with pain. He looked around into the face of Mullan, friendly, warm.

‘We’re nearly finished,’ he said. ‘Tell the truth now; did you tell anyone?’

Tony began to cry, the shame burning his cheeks, his words lost in his sobs. ‘Leave me da alone,’ he said. ‘Leave him alone.’

‘That’s OK,’ Mullan said. ‘Did you tell anyone? Someone in school maybe? A colleague? Maybe a bit of chat in the staff room? You can tell us. Confess. Everyone needs to confess in the end.’

Tony lay back, tried to catch his breath. Something about Mullan’s questions surprised him. They didn’t know someone had spoken directly to the cop himself.

‘I swear, I didn’t tell anyone in school. I swear on my da’s life, I didn’t,’ he managed, honest at least in that.

‘Good fella,’ Mullan said, patting him on the shoulder. ‘Get yourself up and have another drink. It’s all right, now.’

Tony pulled himself to his feet, using the overturned chair for support, then limped across towards the bar, holding his side gingerly with one hand, his stomach in agony, his balls cupped in his other hand. He glared at the unnamed man, spat blood and bile onto the plastic sheeting, but the man paid him no heed, moving across instead and removing something from the booth next to him. When Tony glanced back a moment later, the man was holding a pistol.

Tony stopped, turned to look at Mullan and Duggan. ‘What’s going on?’

‘See, the thing is, Tony,’ Mullan said. ‘We have a witness. Someone was spotted going into the home of the cop on Saturday night.’

Tony felt his legs seem to crumple under him.

‘We already know who the tout is. We just needed to be sure.’

Chapter Forty-Six

Chapter Forty-Six

‘Are you sure? It’s definitely this way?’