No one was allowed on these premises unless they were accompanied by a close family member. Daniel Bailey was old school; he believed that the best form of defence was to be hidden away behind some kind of fencing – he wasn’t as enlightened as his older brother or, indeed, his sons. They all thought – wrongly as it had now been proved – that they were immune to retaliations. Daniel had always known that a fortress was better than a fucking office door if things were suddenly to go seriously fucking pear-shaped. Now his sons had come round to his way of thinking – especially his eldest boy, who had begun to appreciate the need for such a structure, and who also thanked God that there was already one in existence. Danny was aware that his father was more on the ball than he had given him credit for. Like the others, Danny had been lulled into a false sense of security over the years, but his mother’s murder had disabused him of that notion.

He looked around the Portakabin, pleased that his father had situated it in such a way that there was no chance of anyone seeing what was going on inside it. His father had, over the years, built a wall of iron which encompassed the Portakabin. Because of that, it was not only entirely private, it was also more or less soundproof. No one could hear you scream and, even if by some remote chance they did, the fact it was owned by Daniel Bailey guaranteed no one would bother to investigate anyway. Danny had his own suspicions about his mother’s murderer, but unless he had something concrete he daren’t voice them out loud – not with the family as they were now. He needed to be absolutely sure before he blew them apart.

He looked at Dessie Graham; he could feel the terror coming off him in waves and he forced himself to wink at him in an attempt to put him at ease. He was sorry for him – Dessie was a good bloke, and it would have taken a lot of guts to come here like this.

Dessie Graham, a handsome man in his sixties, was so nervous he felt physically sick. It was nothing to be ashamed of – at times like these anyone in their right mind would be on edge. But he had to say his piece; the Baileys had been good to him, and he was loyal – he prided himself on that. Dessie ran the Baileys’ pub on Southend Seafront, and he had no option but to come and discuss his suspicions with the men who paid his wage – a good wage at that. When he had come out of the nick after a twelve stretch, Daniel and Peter had given him a good earn; he would never forget that.