‘No we haven’t,’ says Peterson. ‘The photograph we showed you was just of the type and model of knife that we believe was used to slit Brendan’s throat. We are pretty sure about that – it has a very unusual shape to the blade.’

‘And you just happen to have that exact knife with my fingerprints on it?’ I raise the gun back up and point it directly at McCoy. ‘Give it to me.’

‘Or what?’ grins McCoy.

‘I don’t know, but I’m losing it here, so who does fucking know? Not me for sure and I’m holding a gun.’

McCoy walks behind his desk and sits down. ‘We’ll give you the knife, son, as soon as we have the dongle. Let’s just call it a fair exchange and we can do it at a location and a time of your choosing. How does that sound?’

‘It sounds great, but I don’t trust you. Let’s do it this afternoon, at the play area in front of my block of flats where we spoke before. I’ll give you a ring when I’m ready.’

‘Perfect,’ says McCoy.

‘And is that the end of it? Does it all end there? Will you leave me alone?’ I plead.

‘Absolutely,’ they both reply in unison.

‘As long as everything goes smoothly,’ adds McCoy. ‘Now give me the gun, Gary, and let’s put it somewhere safe.’

‘No chance. I’m taking it with me,’ I reply. ‘You can have it back when I feel safe again.’

‘You wouldn’t want a copper stopping you in your car and finding a firearm in there, would you, Gary? Because it can easily be arranged,’ Peterson says sarcastically, but maybe with a hint of irony – it is difficult to read him.

‘No, I wouldn’t, but I’ll take a chance on that. I’ll phone you up with a time and place for the handover as soon as I’ve fetched the dongle.’

I usher Peterson away from the door and back out of the room before placing the gun in my jacket pocket and striding out of the offices. I can hear Peterson and McCoy laughing loudly at something that I assume is not funny. Some people do that a lot and they are usually wankers.

When I open the door to the street I’m met by Mr Clown Shoes. Henry fucking Holdsworth. He is stood by the intercom gurning into the camera lens. I hold the door open for him and gesture for him to enter.

‘I think they are expecting you,’ I say as he strides up the stairs, his clown shoes squeaking at every step.

26

I drive back into my estate and notice my squirrel mate and his girlfriend chasing each other round and round the trunk of one of the large beech trees. He doesn’t notice me.