made with them. And whether you do, in fact, get out of this room somehow by your own volition depends entirely on the quality of your answers.’
‘You’re fucking bonkers. Two things. You want to whack me, why the fuck should I tell you anything? Second, you whack me, you’ll start a war you can’t win.’
‘I’m already in a war and I want to know why.’
‘Cos you’re past it. Your day has gone. You can’t fight the future. You mention the Serbians. These guys are in another league.’
‘Are you helping them?’
Cuthbert laughed.
‘You don’t get it. These guys don’t need my help. They don’t want my help. I don’t even figure on their radar. I’m irrelevant to them. They’ll kill me, sure, but they don’t want me dead in the way they want you dead. You want to talk history? These guys are the fucking Mongol horde. Attila the Hun drank milk compared to these guys. You point a gun at them? They’ll point a fucking rocket launcher back at you.’
Hathaway grabbed at Cuthbert’s England shirt, getting flesh with it.
‘You’re wearing an England shirt and spouting this crap.’
He tore the England shirt across the front and tried to rip it from Cuthbert’s body but it got stuck in the tape. He left it in tatters, Cuthbert’s gut exposed, hanging over his belt. His chest was heavily tattooed.
‘What do they want?’
‘Payback.’
‘For that Milldean thing?’
‘Of course.’
‘Is that why they want me dead?’
‘Of course.’
‘But I had nothing to do with that.’
Cuthbert grinned.
‘They think you did.’
Hathaway moved in front of Cuthbert.
‘And why would they think that?’
Cuthbert attempted to shrug but the tape round him gave him little room for movement.
‘You?’
Cuthbert just looked at him.
‘Does it matter?’ he said. ‘Pandora’s out of the box.’
Hathaway gave him a contemptuous look.
‘Pandora was never in the box.’
Cuthbert looked puzzled.
‘Who was in the box, then?’
‘How would I know? Jack, probably.’
‘So where was Pandora?’
‘How the fuck do I know?’
‘I mean, what’s she got to do with it?’
Hathaway sighed.
‘It’s her bloody box. Now, I was saying about your father.’
Cuthbert watched him.
‘That car accident.’
‘What about it?’
‘It wasn’t an accident.’
Cuthbert narrowed his eyes.
‘But, actually, that doesn’t matter because your dad wasn’t in the car.’
Cuthbert’s face reddened.
‘His dentures were, for the purposes of identification.’
‘Who was it?’
‘What the fuck do you care who it was, you muppet?’ Dave said, hitting him across the side of the head again.
‘Because we fucking buried the pathetic remains in the family grave and now you’re telling me we’ve got some toerag in there with the rest of the Cuthberts?’
‘Believe me – whoever he is he’ll be a step up from your blood. Your dad was as much a pain in the arse as you. You’re like a family of fucking hyenas. My dad was sick of him just like I’m sick of you. I’m surprised I’ve let you live so long.’
Cuthbert stared into Hathaway’s eyes. His own were dead.
‘So, anyways, your dad was toast, obviously. It was just a matter of who else. My dad had scruples. I wanted him to do the whole bloody lot of you. Pest control. Fumigate Milldean. But you and your sister and brother were just kids. And he totally underestimated how much your mother was involved in the family business. He thought that if he got rid of your dad that would be the end of it.’
Cuthbert’s look burned.
‘Anyway, Steve. Finally, you and your scum family are getting what your breed deserved back then. Just so you know. Everyone is going.’
Hathaway was aware that Dave’s attention jerked to him when he said that. He continued:
‘Your wife. The not-so-little uns – they’ve already got ASBOs, haven’t they? Your brother and his family. Your sister – and she’s definitely no loss, scag that she is. You were scum. You are scum. And none of you deserve to smear the future.’
He nodded at Dave. Dave looked uncertain. Hathaway waited. Cuthbert started to turn his head. Dave raised his hand and shot Cuthbert through the temple. Cuthbert’s head snapped away then rolled sharply forward, his body tilted in the chair.
Dave looked at his handiwork, then down at the floor.
‘Wish he’d said more,’ he said finally.
Hathaway turned away.
‘Nobody ever says enough. Or they say too much.’
TWENTY-THREE
Tingley looked at the drinks Watts brought over to their table in the garden of the old pub beneath the Downs.
‘What is that?’ Tingley said.
Watts picked up his glass and peered at it.
‘This year’s black. Or something. Cider. Nice.’
Tingley tutted.
‘Cider is either for teenagers sitting on park benches or – well – old winos sitting on park benches. Which are you?’
‘Ha. There’s not a park bench in sight.’
Tingley’s phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number. He shrugged at Watts and put the phone to his ear.
‘Tingles, it’s Dave. Don’t say anything, just listen.’
He sounded winded.
‘Thought you should know things have kicked off. Hathaway’s restaurant at the marina was torched and he sent me to the Grand with a message for three Serbs staying there.’
‘Was one called Radislav?’ Tingley said.
‘I said just listen,’ Dave said fiercely. ‘Then we snatched Cuthbert. Thought you’d be pleased about
