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know your whor— your girlfriend’s little theory is nonsense. But hey, if you want to waste your time on nonsense, that’s up to you. Just so long as you don’t let it get in the way of your real work.’
    ‘I won’t. Thanks, Doug.’ Reece pocketed the scrap of beermat, and flicking Doug a wave, accelerated away.

8
    So what the fuck do I do now? wondered Tyler. He scratched at his bandaged eye socket. The painkillers were wearing off. Soon, he knew, the itching sensation would build to a throbbing pain deep enough to make even him grimace. It still hadn’t really sunk in that his left eye was gone. When he glanced from side to side, he could feel his eye muscles moving as though it was still there. The surgeon who’d operated on him in a makeshift backstreet surgery had explained that his eyeball was too badly damaged to be saved, and what’s more, considering that the wound stopped just millimetres short of his brain, he was lucky to be alive. Tyler had accepted the news with his usual inscrutable air. He felt no anger towards Mark Baxley for stabbing him. He would have done the same himself in Mark’s position, only he’d have made sure to push the broken plastic handle all the way through the eyeball into the brain.
    Bryan bellowed through his gag, goggling his eyes in a way that said far more clearly than his muffled words, Take this fucking thing off me!
    Tyler headed into the hallway, motioning for Liam and Stan to follow. Liam slammed the door and looked wide-eyed at his colleagues. ‘This is fucked. This is so fucked. Why would Bryan Reynolds want to kill Edward Forester?’
    ‘That’s not our concern,’ said Stan, his dour Yorkshire voice as steady as ever. ‘We’ve been contracted to do a job, and we have an obligation to complete that contract.’
    ‘Are you off your rocker? If we kill Reynolds we’ll have every psycho with a gun in Sheffield after our arses.’
    ‘Well we can’t let him go. He’s seen our faces. And anyway, who’s to know it was us that killed him?’
    ‘Forester knows,’ said Tyler. ‘And if Reynolds’s goons know about Forester, they’ll go after him and try to make him talk.’
    ‘Fuck, you’re right,’ said Liam. ‘And there’s no way that prick will keep his gob shut. Well, that’s it then. We’ve got no choice. We have to kill them both.’
    ‘Make your mind up,’ said Stan. ‘A moment ago you were all for letting Reynolds go.’
    ‘No I wasn’t. I just wasn’t sure what we should do.’
    ‘You sounded sure enough to me.’
    Liam turned to Tyler. ‘So are we going to kill them or what?’
    ‘As far as Reynolds goes, the question isn’t are we going to do it,’ said Tyler. ‘It’s how do we compensate for what we’re going to lose? We make as much from Reynolds in five or six months as what we’re being paid for this job.’
    ‘Simple,’ said Stan. ‘Forester’s going to have to pay more.’
    Tyler nodded. ‘A lot more.’
    ‘And when he’s paid us, we do him in too. Right?’ said Liam.
    Tyler scratched his bandage again. Christ, the itching was enough to drive you crazy. ‘I’m not sure about that. Killing a gangster is one thing. No one is going to miss a scumbag like Bryan Reynolds. Killing a politician is another thing entirely. We’ll have every copper in South Yorkshire looking for us.’
    ‘We already have after what you did to that policewoman,’ pointed out Stan.
    ‘Yeah, well, that wouldn’t have happened if the bitch had backed down.’ The briefest flash of irritation – not at Stan, but at himself – showed in Tyler’s tone. He motioned at the door to what they half-jokingly referred to as the interrogation room. ‘You two get back in there and keep an eye on our guests.’ With a glance at Liam, he added, ‘That’s all. Don’t lay a finger on them, don’t even talk to them. Is that clear?’
    Nodding, Liam and Stan headed back into the room. Tyler pulled out a mobile phone and dialled. The call was