The barman comes over with the drinks. Cullen picks up his whisky and downs it in one. He watches Ratner’s fingers sliding nervously up and down his pint glass. A sly smile comes on Ratner’s face. Cullen senses exactly where he’s about to go, the fool.

‘You haven’t exactly been an angel yourself.’

‘Grow up, Mark. You sound like a silly little schoolboy in the playground.’

‘If I wanted to, I could…’

Cullen holds up a hand. ‘I wouldn’t finish that sentence if I were you. Just make the Tillotson girl keep quiet and do as she’s told.’

Cullen pushes back his chair and taking his jacket turns and walks as quickly as he can out of the pub and into the car park. Before he’s got as far as the car, Ratner’s voice reaches him.

‘I saw you at lunch with Nevis Smith the other day.’

Cullen turns and shakes his head. Ratner is standing only a few feet away, working his hands together. ‘And?’

‘And pot, kettle is what.’

This time Cullen lets out a belly laugh. The man is preposterous. ‘Nevis Smith is my eyes and ears, you moron. She’s my spy, my useful idiot. She tells me everything I need to know about what the students are saying. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she doesn’t already know about you and Natasha.’

Ratner comes closer. ‘Natasha says Nevis is investigating the incident on the bridge last Sunday.’

Cullen lets out a snort. ‘Investigating? We are talking about the same nineteen-year-old oddball with zero confidence, I assume.’ An eyeroll as he repeats the word ‘investigating’ doing his best to give the word the requisite tone of contempt. He feels something unstable rise up in him, like a great elevator whose cables are about to snap. Leaning towards him, he says, ‘Hear this. I don’t give a damn what your little tart says. I’m getting rid of her, you understand? And if you give me any more trouble, I’ll get rid of you too.’

‘I’d like to see you try.’