I was glad I didn’t still have the gun with me because there was a good chance I’d be tempted to us it. But I did have the police regulation Taser X2, and I felt safer knowing I had it. After all, the guy I was going to see was a violent psychopath. He’d spent twelve years in prison for stabbing a man to death and then two years as a mercenary in the Middle East before going to work as an enforcer for Roy Slack.

Since then he’d earned a reputation that was as ugly as he himself was. By all accounts he’d killed half a dozen people and crippled a few more. But like his boss he’d managed to avoid prosecution.

It was always the same story. There was never enough evidence to get a conviction and nobody was ever brave enough to testify against him.

Villains like Danny Carver weren’t easily intimidated, and they knew how to work the system. That was why going through the formal interrogation process with him would be a complete waste of time. If he knew more than he was letting on then the only way to get it out of him was to play by his rules.

There was a limit to how far I’d be prepared to go, of course. But until I reached it I wouldn’t know where it was.

I’d never been a shrinking violet. And I’d be the first to admit that I had a fierce temper that had got me into trouble on more than one occasion.

But this was the first time I’d allowed myself to get worked up into such a frenzy, though I felt it was justified in view of what had happened to Aidan and to the baby that had been growing inside me.

Carver’s house was in one of those streets that didn’t look very impressive, but where properties were worth a fortune.

It was end-of-terrace, with a small, enclosed front garden and a short driveway on which stood a smart BMW 7 Series.

I parked across the street and saw that there were lights on inside, both upstairs and down. I switched off the engine and sat there in the dark for a while, trying not to acknowledge the nerves that were raging inside me.

According to Danny Carver’s file he lived alone and wasn’t married. But that didn’t mean he was by himself in the house. For all I knew he was spending the evening with a girlfriend or a couple of his gangster pals.

So that was the first problem to confront me. The first unknown.