‘Jimmy? Jimmy? Can you hear me? Hang in there, we’ll get you patched up.’ But no sooner had Porter spoken the words than he saw the blood on his own hands as he went to wipe them dry on his trousers. He looked back at Bolton, scanning for the source. The wet folds of his coat were wrapped around him like dark wings, and Porter couldn’t see any tear in the fabric where a bullet might’ve entered. He remembered where he’d grabbed hold to pull him out of the river, and found what he was looking for. A ragged line of fabric at the neckline almost hid the wound. Porter carefully pulled the collar down an inch, wincing as he saw the trough of flesh that the bullet had carved out, blood still pumping out an angry red in contrast to Bolton’s clammy pale skin. He felt Bolton twitch as he let go, cloth rustling back into place over exposed muscle, and looked down to see his eyes open a fraction. Porter heard Kaye’s voice above him, calling for an ambulance, as well as calling in Locke and Stenner’s escape. He clamped a hand over Bolton’s neck to slow the bleeding, but it oozed between his fingers, and around the edges.

‘Jimmy?’ Porter leant in closer. ‘You said he sold you out. Talk to me. Tell me what happened.’

A dozen possibilities bumped against each other in Porter’s mind, like driverless dodgem cars. He struggled to believe anything Bolton said on face value. Maybe he had just been trying to shoot his way out of a tight corner, safe in the assumption that he couldn’t talk his way out of the bodies back up at the warehouse? But why take a shot at Locke? Even if Bolton got banged up, Locke took care of his own. Bolton would have practically run whatever prison he ended up in. Unless … . unless there was something to Bolton’s claim of being stitched up? It had been Mary, though, that led them to Natasha, not Locke himself. But what if she had always known the truth, that her husband killed Natasha, and had been covering for him all these years?

Bolton groaned, eyes half open now, darting round, unable to settle on anything, looking for a way out that wasn’t there. ‘Jimmy!’ Porter’s voice more urgent now. ‘What the fuck just happened?’