‘This is my brother Danny,’ I told her when we reached the bottom of the stairs.

‘Good to meet you pet,’ he said.

The keys to Bobby’s Jag were on the floor by the phone. I picked them up and said, ‘Danny, take the Beamer and follow me.’ I didn’t want Bobby’s car sitting there in the morning. That wasn’t part of my plan.

‘What happened?’ I asked as I roared along the driveway.

‘They took dad and Finney,’ she said. ‘I was in my room and I heard a big bang and when I went to the top of the stairs to see what had happened the door was hanging off and there were these big blokes with shotguns – Russians or Poles?’

‘Russians,’ I told her. ‘Was anybody else with them?’

‘Yeah,’ she said with anger in her voice, ‘a Scottish bloke and a fucking bitch.’

‘A woman?’ she nodded. So Lady Macbeth was in on the act. She’d live to regret that if I had my way. ‘Did she say anything to you?’

‘She told one of the guys to stay behind and watch me then she called up the stairs, telling me to come down. I could see they were dragging dad and Finney away, so I legged it into dad’s office. He keeps his lock knife in a desk drawer so I opened it up and stuffed it in the pocket of my fleece. When I got back to the top of the stairs she was sneering at me from the bottom with that big lunk next to her. She said “little girls need to learn to do what they’re told by their elders” then she turned to the bastard and said “keep her quiet, you can do what you like”.’ Sarah put her hand up to her forehead like she might be about to pass out but she managed to continue, ‘I started shouting “leave me alone, my father will fucking kill you” and the bitch laughed,’ Sarah shook her head, ‘she just laughed, then she said “oh get over yersell hen”.’ It was a pretty good impression of Lady Macbeth’s thick Glasgow accent.

‘She left with all of the others and the guy you saw came up the stairs. I still didn’t believe he was going to do it but he hit me then he tore my leggings off. When he started undoing his trousers I grabbed the knife and stabbed him.’

Sarah had been incredibly brave and very lucky. She probably only had one chance to knife the guy somewhere vital before he’d have disarmed her, raped her and most probably killed her. But she’d earned her luck.

‘I didn’t want to kill him,’ she said quietly. ‘I just wanted it to stop.’

‘I know,’ I said, ‘you did well, you did the right thing. It was him or you.’ I spoke the words like the expert on killing I had recently become.

We drove in silence for a minute while she plucked up the courage to ask me. I knew it was coming but I was dreading it.

‘What about Dad?’ she asked quietly.

She had a right to know about her old man. I couldn’t lie to her and tell her everything was going to be alright, because it wasn’t. But what was I supposed to do? Tell her the old fellah was gone because of me, tell her I killed him because I was forced into it by a Glasgow gangster, that they would have killed me too if I hadn’t done it. That I had no more choice in killing Bobby than she did in topping that big Russian? It was him or me. Is that what I was supposed to tell her?

I didn’t think so.

‘He’s gone, Sarah,’ I said quietly, ‘Finney too.’

She’s a tough cookie Sarah and I think she half expected it would end like that for her dad one day. Maybe she’d been preparing for this moment all her life because she just nodded and said, ‘thank you for telling me,’ as if it was somehow a relief that I didn’t try to lie to her. She started weeping silently next to me as I drove. She made no sound at all but occasionally, out of the corner of my eye, I would see her sweep her arm up to her face to wipe her eyes with the back of her hand. By the time we reached Palmer’s rented house she’d dried them. I parked up and she followed me inside, her eyes red and puffy.

I realised Sarah had just had a night on a par with mine. We had both nearly died and we had both killed a man for the first time in our lives. She’d had it worse, she’d lost her beloved dad in the process.

But there was no time to think about any of that right now. We were at war.

I made Sarah go up to the spare room and wait there. I didn’t want her to hear any of this. I followed her into the spare room and she sat on the edge of the bed. She looked up at me, appealing.

‘I want to do something,’ she said, ‘I want to help you, for my dad.’

‘Believe me when I say this, I knew your dad for a very long time and the last thing he would want is for me to involve you in any of this,’ I told her. ‘I will handle it, I promise.’

‘Are you going out again tonight?’ she asked, looking scared.

I nodded, ‘I’ll leave someone behind. He’ll be downstairs all night and tomorrow. You’re totally safe. Nobody knows you’re here. You can stay in the room if you want.’

‘I don’t want you to leave me again,’ she looked terrified.

‘Listen to me,’ I told her and I stopped her protests by putting both of my hands out and gently holding her face between them, ‘I have to go and do this one thing. I have to finish it and I will be back, I promise you.’

She opened her mouth to say something but I interrupted her, ‘I need you to do something for me. I need you to be brave until I sort this mess out. Then I promise I’ll come back and I will never leave you alone again, I swear.’ She looked like she was going to cry again, but not in the same way. This was a different emotion. Relief perhaps.

I kissed her, there in the bare, spare room of that rented house. It was a strange place for our first proper kiss but it had been a strange night. That kiss was a promise and we both made it.

Palmer’s rented house could have been described as minimalist, as if the bare walls, limited furniture and an absence of family photos were some deliberate design statement. I knew differently. He was a bloke who just didn’t value stuff. He had a 42-inch plasma TV on one wall to watch the football on a Sunday afternoon, a fridge full of beers and a couple of small couches to sit on but precious little else, so we just stood around in his kitchen.

Palmer had rounded them up. They were all there, just like I asked: Palmer, Toddy, Mickey Hunter, Danny, Kinane and all three of his sons.

I turned to Hunter and nodded. He put two long, bulky, black holdalls on the kitchen table and unzipped them both. Hunter took out the weapons one by one and placed them carefully on the table. He had brought everything I’d asked for. If he had been surprised to see Kinane and his sons he didn’t make a big deal out of it, just nodded in the older man’s direction, then he talked us through the guns he’d brought with him.

‘Four Beretta semi-automatic shotguns. From what you tell me there’s no need to saw off the barrels?’ He was obviously trying to find out more but I wasn’t about to tell Mickey Hunter what I had planned.

‘No need,’ I confirmed.

‘I’m grateful for that small mercy.’ He held up the ammo to show us, ‘don’t fuck about with these, they’re two and a quarter-ounce Super Magnum cartridges. They’ll bring down a rampaging elephant,’ and we all nodded respectfully. Kinane and his sons picked up the shotguns and started loading them like they knew what they were doing, which I didn’t doubt.

‘Danny,’ said Hunter. My brother was paying attention alright and he even smiled when he saw what Hunter was taking out of the bag for him, ‘the SLR; British Army, standard-issue, semi-automatic rifle from your time and beyond. I don’t have to tell you anything about this, do I?’

‘No mate,’ said Danny as he picked it up, scrutinised its length closely, peered down its barrel then held it reverentially, ‘you don’t have to tell me anything about it.’

‘Better than the SA80 any day,’ said Palmer, appearing at his side, ‘that won’t jam in a bloody sand dune.’ The two of them were gazing at the rifle like it was a picture of an old and much-loved girlfriend.

‘I thought you might feel that way,’ Hunter told Palmer, ‘so I brought you one as well.’

‘Nice one.’

‘Sure you don’t need anything?’ Hunter asked me, ‘I put another shotgun in the car, just in case.’

I shook my head. I was happier with the Glock and less likely to blow my own foot off with it.

Hunter handed me the long, thin black bag, ‘and you asked for this.’

‘Thanks,’ I said taking it from him without another word.

‘You going to war?’ asked Hunter, a little nervously.

‘Maybe,’ he was still fishing. I jerked my head so he would follow me out of the kitchen where we couldn’t be heard. More importantly it would separate him from the others and he wouldn’t be able to hear me speaking to them later. ‘I need you to stay here with Toddy. Don’t go anywhere. Keep your phone handy.’

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