‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Stuart raged at him. ‘Are you telling me that you ran away from your post and left him down there unattended?’

Hacker blinked sweat from his eyes. ‘For God’s sake, man, look at me. I’m wounded. I’m not able to deal with him on my own, okay? Not until Mikey Creece and the others get here. That’s not what I get paid for.’

‘I’ll be the judge of what you get paid for,’ Stuart yelled. ‘I told you to go and find that fucking woman, for a start. Then you’re going to put right the rest of what you screwed up!’

‘Are you blind? I’ve a man down here. He matters more to me than your bullshit about a load of gold that probably doesn’t even exist.’

‘Is that a fact?’ Stuart reached inside his tweed suit jacket and came out with a small, shiny automatic pistol that Hacker had never seen before. Before Hacker could react, Stuart pointed the gun at the unconscious Graham and squeezed the trigger. The ear-splitting crack of the shot made him flinch, but at short range his aim was good enough. A pink mist sprayed from the side of Graham’s head. He twitched once and flopped back down into his blood pool.

Stuart said, ‘There. Now he doesn’t matter any more, does he? So go and do what I tell you. Find the woman. Find Hope. Do your blasted job.’

Hacker stared down at his dead crony. Stared up at his employer. In that moment he forgot all about his own injury and the useless arm that might never function properly again. A surge of rage filled him with renewed strength and he grasped the hilt of the bloody knife, ripped it clean out of Graham’s leg and reared up towards Stuart, wanting to slice his guts open.

Stuart’s face blanched and he stumbled back towards the doorway, raising the gun again. ‘One million pounds, Hacker. Cash.’

Hacker stopped. Still clutching the knife. ‘One million?’

‘One and a half. Two. I really don’t care, all right? Just do it.’

Hacker stood there glowering at him, hating this cowardly little bastard who thought being rich was his magic ticket out of trouble, no matter what. What most pissed Hacker off about that was that it was usually true.

Hacker said, ‘Lose the gun. I don’t trust you.’

‘I’ve nothing to gain by shooting you, Hacker. Listen to reason. We can still work together.’

‘Lose the gun,’ Hacker repeated.

‘Only if you drop the knife.’