‘So you’re the trigger-happy cunt who murdered both my son and unborn grandchild,’ he said.

It was the first time he’d laid eyes on Hugh Wallis since arranging for Danny and a couple of the other lads to snatch him.

That was a week ago, shortly after one of the bent coppers on the firm’s payroll had leaked his identity.

He’d been brought here to await his punishment, which Slack had been determined to administer himself.

‘Please let me go,’ Wallis pleaded, his eyes wide and bloodshot. ‘I have a family, for Christ’s sake.’

Slack made a sneering shape with his mouth.

‘Do you know who I am?’ he yelled.

Wallis nodded and a tear streaked down his right cheek.

‘You’re Roy Slack.’

‘That’s right. And I’m here to pay you back for killing Terry Malone when there was no need. And you did it only a few hours after I broke the news to him that I was his dad. That can’t be allowed to go unpunished.’

Wallis tried to respond, but Slack held up his hand to stop him.

‘I don’t want to hear what you have to say. This is not a fucking court of law where you get to plead your case. As far as I’m concerned you’re as guilty as sin. Terry’s girlfriend was there, as you know. She told everyone what happened. But your lot chose to believe you over her and that ain’t right.’

Wallis pulled himself up on one knee and started pleading for his life.

Slack responded by stepping forward and saying, ‘You should count yourself lucky that you’re not being tortured. As much as I’d like to make you suffer I haven’t got the time to piss around.’

He thrust his right hand into his trouser pocket and when he pulled it out he was clutching a brass knuckle-duster with spikes.

The fear shone out of the copper’s eyes as Slack clenched his jaw and bared his teeth.

‘You took my son away from me before I had a chance to get to know him,’ he said. ‘I had big plans for that boy and you fucked them up. And because you’re a copper you thought you’d get away with it. Well, you were wrong.’

The first blow tore a chunk out of Wallis’s arm as he raised it to shield his face. He screamed and toppled onto his back.

Slack jumped onto the mattress and started aiming kicks at the man’s head. Wallis was too weak to put up a fight. He tried to roll onto his side and bring his legs up against his chest, but he wasn’t quick enough.

Slack dropped down heavily on top of him, and sat astride his stomach. And then he let rip with the knuckleduster, his weapon of choice for the past thirty years.