He leaned back and threw his leg up, making more noise, the muscles in his thighs taut from the stretch. Then he forced his leg over and dropped to the ground on the other side. As he got his breath back, he became aware of the silence, and how much he had broken it.

Jack looked along the building. There was a window further along, to match the one on the other side, and his view was towards the cars parked behind. He tried to see through the darkness, to check for obstacles that might cause a noisy trip. The fence created some space for rubbish bins and so he knew he had to tread carefully. There were piles of cardboard, along with discarded pieces of metal that looked like broken car clamps.

His hands edged slowly along the wall, his feet feeling their way forward, trying to avoid a clang or a stumble. His clothes rustled against the bricks. The window crept into view, a faint glow of light getting closer. It wasn’t blocked out.

He dropped to his knees and shuffled to get under the window. He wanted to listen out for noise before he lifted himself up, to check that whoever was inside wasn’t right by the glass. There were voices, just bass rumbles. It was impossible to make out what was being said. He raised himself slowly. The glass came into view, and he wondered whether there was someone on the other side watching him.

The window was dirty, covered in dust and cobwebs, and so there was no clear view. He pressed his face to the glass and rubbed away a small circle in the dirt. The interior was visible, but if he could see in, then they could see him. His breath misted up the glass, but as it melted away, Jack saw a large open space, with two vans against the back wall. And there were people stood around, focussed on something in the middle of the room, cast in the light of a simple bulb. He rubbed some more dirt away from the window, used the mist from his breath to clean a neat circle.

And then Jack saw what they were standing around. Or rather who. It was a man on a small metal chair, his head pulled back.

Jack reached for his phone, about to call Laura, but he jumped when a scream came through the glass, a shriek of pure agony.

Shit. He stepped back and dropped his phone, stumbled against an old clamp bracket. He reached out with his hand but there was nothing there to stop him. He clattered against one of the large metal rubbish bins, the noise cutting through the night.

He cursed and went to his knees, scouring the ground for his phone, fingers scrambling around in the grit and debris. When his fingers bounced against it, he clicked it on to check that it was still working, and then eased himself back up to the window, to check whether anyone had heard him.

His heartbeat sounded loud as he peered into the glass. He dropped down again quickly, cursing, because everyone in there was looking towards the window.

Jack tried to stay still so that he could listen out, and then he heard the shouts. They were coming for him.

He ran for the locked gate, kicking rusted pieces of metal out of the way. He had to get back to his car, to phone for help. He took a jump at the gate, ready to go over the same way, his hands gripping the top, but then a large black shape appeared on the other side, his hands around the struts like a jailbird. Except that Jack was the one who was imprisoned.

‘You’ve made a big mistake,’ said a deep voice, and then there was the clink of the key as it went into the lock on the gate. As it swung slowly open with a creak, large hands went for him.

Chapter Sixty-Six

Carson banged on Don’s door.

‘If he’s got Williams, he’s not going to be here,’ Laura said.

‘I know that, but someone here must be able to talk,’ Carson snapped back, before banging again on the door.

There was a click as the door opened. It was Helen, Don’s wife.

‘Where is he?’ demanded Carson.

‘Who?’

‘Don’t piss me about. Your husband. Is he in?’

She stared at Laura, and then at Carson, and then shook her head. ‘He’s busy,’ she said and went to close the door.

Carson banged his hand on the door with such force that Helen was thrown back a few steps into the hall. He went inside, Laura right behind him.

They went into the living room. It was empty, but then Laura noticed the open bottle of vodka on the desk, next to a large bottle of cola.

‘It’s dangerous to drink on your own,’ Laura said, turning to Helen.

Before she could answer, there was a noise from the kitchen, and Angel, David Hoyle’s girlfriend, appeared.

‘She isn’t alone,’ Angel said.

Laura was surprised to see her, and she detected a slur to Angel’s voice. ‘What are you doing here?’ Laura said. ‘I didn’t know you were friends.’

Angel didn’t answer. She looked at Helen instead.

‘I get it,’ Laura said. ‘You’re here so that Helen can keep an eye on you, so that you don’t call me to tell me what David is doing, because you don’t look like the sort of person who hangs around with crooks and their families.’ When Helen folded her arms at that, Laura added, ‘And don’t you look so offended. We both know that more than hard work has given you all this.’

‘Cut the small talk,’ Carson said. ‘Sit down, both of you.’ Both women stayed on their feet, and so Carson pushed them, his fingers jabbing into their chests.

‘That’s assault,’ Angel shouted.

‘And I’m talking about murder, so leave your middle-class neurosis behind, and sit down,’ Carson snapped back.

Angel looked at Helen, and then went to sit next to her, her face set in a scowl.

‘What do you want?’ Helen said.

‘Your husband,’ Carson said.

‘I don’t know where he is.’

‘You’re lying,’ Carson said, before he looked towards Angel, stepping closer, making her cross her legs, protective, nervous. ‘You’d be popular in prison.’

‘Prison?’

‘Is there an echo in here?’ he said, tapping his knuckles on Angel’s head. ‘Yes, prison, and you’re a sweet middle-class girl, nice skin, nice figure. A step up from the usual druggies and angry dykes they get in there, so you’ll never get lonely, because it can be a killer in there, loneliness, when you’ve so much time to get through.’

‘Why would I go to prison?’

‘Assisting an offender,’ Carson said. ‘Maybe even conspiracy to murder, if we can sweet talk the prosecution into dragging everyone in. And you’re really fucked, because you promised to help us, but when it came down to it, you didn’t.’

‘You promised to help?’ Helen said.

‘Ignore her,’ Carson said. ‘Where is Don Roberts?’

Angel looked at Helen, and then back at Carson. ‘I can’t help you.’

‘Yes, you can, but this is your last chance,’ Laura said. ‘Call David. Tell him to call it off. Turn Williams in. David might even get a reward. But don’t kill Williams, or everyone’s life will be ruined. David’s. Don’s. Everyone.’

‘We don’t talk to the police,’ Helen said, her voice filled with a sneer.

‘You don’t, we know that,’ Carson replied. ‘But Angel isn’t like you. David dropped her here to make her stay quiet, and now David has gone with them to get revenge for Angel, but does she really want that?’ He looked at Angel. ‘Don’t side with Don. Let this end properly, and then David can go back to his life, doing what he does to make your life better. He’s crossed the line, but you don’t have to go with him.’

Angel’s chin was trembling, tears forming in her eyes. She looked at Helen.

‘Remember what we told you,’ Helen said, her eyes filled with menace.

Angel looked down and stayed silent. Helen folded her arms. They were going to get nothing else.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Strong hands gripped Jack’s shoulders and pushed him against the wall. His head banged hard against the brickwork. He had to focus to stop his knees from buckling, the night turning into colour-filled speckles of light. The smell of stale cigarettes filled Jack’s nostrils and spittle flecked his cheeks as his captor got up close, a forearm pushed against his throat.