‘So now you can see where I’m coming from, I need answers and the right ones. You even try and give me a load of ol’ bollocks and me and you are gonna fall out big time. Now, here’s your starter for ten. I know that you must be fucking thinking that this Governor bloke will cause you harm . . . even maybe your family, but I’m gonna rip the guy apart with my bare hands after I’ve tortured his family in front of him. So, you decide who the fuck you should be more scared of.’

Woodrow felt his limbs weaken so much that his hands flopped down by his sides as if he’d just had a stroke. Pins and needles pricked every bit of his skull, and his skin glistened with sweat. He felt his stomach contents begin to rise, and he knew he could be sick at any moment. He told himself he needed to breathe evenly and bring his heart rate back down to a more manageable level, but he was under such intense pressure, and what was worse, he couldn’t see any way out of this nightmare that had unfolded in the space of twenty minutes. There was no escaping, fighting, or even bullshitting this man because the calm but terrifying glint in his eyes spoke volumes.

‘So now we’ve cleared that up, we’re gonna have a nice chat at my premises, and you’re gonna tell me everything you have on this cunt.’

Woodrow looked around out of the windows, and his hands began to shake. He wasn’t blindfolded, he would know where these men worked from, he could tell the police, he could tell anyone. So, all of this amounted to just one thing: he wasn’t getting out of this alive. Panic well and truly set in. His cocky manner, put on for his own crew, wasn’t going to work with Regan, that was a given. The big man was obviously old school, the most dangerous kind of gangster. Those brooding eyes told him one thing: the man was fearless and angry.

‘Look, bruv . . . ’

‘Shut it with the bruv, bro, or any other form of family reference. I ain’t your family, got it? You wanna address me, you call me Mr Regan.’

Woodrow’s eyes widened. He’d never met any of the Regans face-to-face, but he knew exactly who they were, and worse, what they were capable of. His brother Dez had stupidly pissed off Mike Regan and learned the hard way with a scar down his face to prove it.

‘So are you Mike Regan, then?’

‘Yeah, I am. So now I want some answers.’

‘Er, I ain’t getting out of this alive, am I? Even if I tell you all you want to know, my life’s over, in it?’

The devastating realization was evident and mirrored in Woodrow’s eyes.