The blood drained from Carter’s face. Bolton was a big man. Correction, he was like Goliath to Carter’s David. Maybe he could outpace him if he made a run for it. The primal part of his brain was telling him to do just that, but his legs had turned to lead.

‘As I said before, though, I’m a reasonable man.’ Bolton turned so he was facing Carter now. ‘And if you deliver this message for me I guarantee you’ll leave this room in one piece. Can you do that for me?’

Carter nodded, like a child eager to please its parent. ‘Course I can, Mr Bolton. Just tell me what I need to say.’

Bolton smiled again. ‘Say?’ His laugh bounced off the walls and reached the corners that the weak light from the bulbs could not. ‘I don’t need you to say anything.’

Carter’s forehead crinkled in confusion. He was still frowning when Bolton grabbed his hand. He felt something smooth slap his palm. His fingers closed, an automatic reaction at first, before Bolton’s meaty paw covered his hand and squeezed his fingers into the pad of his thumb.

Pop.

Carter looked down in surprise at his hand. He saw the blood welling between his fingers before the pain sliced through him. Bolton released his grip and reached up, grabbing Carter by the collar of his sweater in one hand, and stooping to reach through Carter’s legs with his other. Carter’s eyes were still fixed on his own hand. His fingers parted slightly, shards of glass glistening wickedly from between the gaps. He saw the swirling metallic thread of a light bulb fitting sticking out past his little finger.

What the fu—

Bolton plucked him off the ground as easily as a child plucking a flower and lifted him in one smooth motion above his head like a barbell. It happened so fast that Carter didn’t make a sound. His arms windmilled and his mouth gaped open like a fish. Bolton held him there for a second, no more, then, bunching his heavily muscled shoulders, he launched Carter horizontally at the window.

There was no life story flashing before his eyes, just one glimpse of memory. When he was a child, they’d had a family trip to Blackpool and he’d ridden on the rollercoaster. The feeling of weightlessness had made him wide-eyed with excitement, and his eyes widened once again, but this time in surprise. The somersaults his stomach turned as he flew gave him a queasy feeling, a long way from the thrill of the fairground.