Bolton turned the car around and cruised out past the raised security barrier. Carter sat still, head fixed front and centre, but all the while his eyes scanned the buildings and rooftops for any sign of his watchers. Would the watchers become his saviours or was he in this on his own now?

‘If I were in your shoes I’d be wondering two things right now,’ said Bolton, glancing over. ‘How did he know I was miked up, and what the hell is he going to do about it?’

Carter opened his mouth to speak but Bolton cut him off.

‘In answer to the first point, that’s none of your fucking business, but suffice to say that I know everything that happens in my world. As for the second point, well, Mr Carter, that largely depends on you. You see, I know about your predicament.’ He casually rattled off the facts of the case the police had against Carter. ‘So you see, I understand you were put in a difficult position. It would have been better for all concerned, however, if you had kept your fucking mouth shut and asked to see Mr Jasper.’ Charles Jasper was the solicitor who handled all legal matters for Locke & Winwood.

‘Mr Bolton … sir … look, I—’

‘I’ll let you know when I want you to speak, Mr Carter.’ Bolton’s voice rumbled low like thunderclouds. It didn’t rise above a conversational volume, but the unspoken menace in his tone meant it didn’t need to be any louder. ‘I said we’d talk on the way there. I didn’t say you’d be allowed to do any of the talking.’

Carter sat back in his seat. He glanced in the wing mirror and saw no sign of anyone following them. Had they even seen him leave, or were they still listening to his jacket sat alone on a seat? Like he had been for most of his life, he was on his own.

‘I have a proposition for you. One that reflects your previous loyal service to the firm.’

‘Whatever you need.’ Carter nodded vigorously as he clutched at the lifeline. Bolton turned to look Carter in the eye as they stopped at a junction, and silenced him with a glance so forceful it may as well have been a slap across the face. They had taken a series of rapid-fire twists and turns, so that even though they’d driven for less than five minutes he had lost his bearings. The sprawling mass of storage units and warehouses could be like a maze for the uninitiated.

‘Simple. I need two things from you,’ said Bolton. ‘I need you to promise me you’ve had your last conversation with the police.’

‘I swear,’ Carter said. ‘Those bastards won’t get another word out of me.’ He grinned in relief.

‘Secondly, I need you to deliver a message for me.’