Slack saw it as a bad sign, the fact that DS Tony Marsden hadn’t bothered to conceal his identity behind a balaclava like the others.

It could mean only one thing – that he would ensure that nobody but him and his hooded companions would ever know what happened here.

Slack recalled what the short-arsed plod had said as he’d left the apartment after grilling him.

‘I’ll be seeing you again, Roy. And when I do I’ll make sure I wipe that fucking smile off your ugly face.’

Marsden walked slowly towards him, his eyes pinpricks of rage, while the others spread themselves out around the workshop. Slack assumed they were lower rank coppers and felt either too guilty or too scared to show their faces.

‘So I take it that this is not an official follow-up interview,’ Slack said, his voice laced with sarcasm.

‘Doing things by the book has got us nowhere,’ Marsden replied. ‘So we’ve decided that the only way to stop this murder binge of yours is to go down the unofficial route.’

The first punch caught Slack off guard. Marsden’s fist crashed against his chin, snapping his head backwards and sending his bottom teeth into his tongue. The blow also drove the air from his lungs, and his vision blurred with pain.

Through the tears he watched as the detective took off his suit jacket and threw it onto a nearby bench. He then pulled up his shirtsleeves and flexed his biceps.

Slack straightened himself in the chair and spat blood from his mouth onto the floor.

Then he let out a bark of laughter and said, ‘Is that the best you’ve got, you poison fucking dwarf? I know girls who can hit harder than that.’

Marsden snorted, a phlegmy, back-of-the-throat, sound.

‘I told you that I’d wipe that smile off your face, Slack, and I will. And I’m also gonna make you tell me who’s doing your dirty work for you.’

Slack shook his head. ‘So you think you can beat a confession out of me? Well, forget it. I won’t confess to something I haven’t done.’

‘You can deny it until you’re blue in the face,’ Marsden said. ‘But everything points to you. Only someone who’s on death’s doorstep or has a fucking death wish would take on every copper in this city. And you’re the only person I know who has a big enough motive.’

‘Oh, that’s right,’ Slack said, his voice glacial cold. ‘You think I want revenge because of what you arseholes did to my wife, my son, my father and my unborn grandchild. Well, I won’t deny that I’d like to see you all rot in hell. But you’ve got the wrong man. That’s why you don’t have any proof. Because there isn’t any.’