from his mouth. Dribble poured down his chin and soon worked its way through my T-shirt.
'Siobhan?'
'She's OK. I saw her a few days ago.'
'Does she know I'm OK? Can I talk to her?'
'Not yet. Let's just get to my mate's brother's place, get your head straight. Then you're going to tell me what the fuck's going on.'
'Nick . . .' His stinking breath was just inches from my face again. 'I did not kill Peter, I swear.'
Magreb was getting a bit worried about the waffle. I didn't think he could hear Dom but he could certainly hear me. 'Mr Nick, please, quiet and stay down, maybe. Just few minutes. Thank you.'
We turned off the metalled road and bounced along another track. The brakes squealed and the van came to a halt. Everything went quiet. 'We here, Mr Nick.'
I didn't know why he was whispering. It wasn't as if he had a Stealth Hiace.
The tailgate opened and I pushed back the sleeping-bag. All I could see were huge wood-stacks, maybe fifteen metres high, tree-trunks, branches, bundles of twigs for tinder. I clambered out. In front of the wagon was a collection of corrugated-iron shacks. TV Hill was to our right, maybe a K away. The target was still floodlit and flashing blue like a UFO landing site.
Either side of us were runs of half-finished buildings, exposed reinforcing rods jutting into the starlit sky. A car drove past on the main the other side of the woodpiles.
We carried Dom over the tyre-rutted mud into one of the shacks. The place stank of old woodsmoke. We put him down on a pile of furry nylon carpets that had been spread across a minging old mattress tucked into the corner. Magreb lit an oil lamp. 'My brother get wood. Three days, maybe.'
There was a fireplace of sorts, with a badly sooted cooking-pot sitting on old embers. Hundreds of books were piled in one corner.
Magreb held the lamp over Dom. I touched his arm. 'Listen, mate, I'll get a fire going, heat up some water. You find some good stuff to drink, OK?'
It got him sparked up. 'Of course, Mr Nick. I get food also. I not long.'
As the rickety old door closed behind him I slipped the Bergen off my shoulders, took the lamp to the fireplace and tucked a couple of blankets round Dom.
The door creaked open again. 'Mr Nick?'
'What's the matter, mate?' As I opened my mouth I knew there were just too many footsteps.
The next thing I heard was 'Stay where you are, son – or you'll get it right now.'
I didn't need to turn to do a headcount. Where you had Sundance, you had Trainers.
'Now face me.'
They were both in the room, carrying shorts. Trainers kicked Magreb off towards the left of the shack. He wasn't controlling his fear too well. Dom just kept quiet and still.
Sundance and Trainers weren't interested in him, or even Magreb. I seemed to be the star of the show.
'Don't move a muscle, you fuck.'
A vehicle rolled over the mud towards us and pulled up. The engine stopped and doors opened.
Two more bodies joined us. Mr Sheen and Top Lip stopped for a moment and glared at me, then picked up Dom and my Bergen. Dom tried to put up a struggle rewarded by Mr Sheen with a blow to his face.
Magreb cowered, forehead down, knees up, arms wrapped round his legs.
Trainers covered as Sundance took a few steps towards me, a hand in his jeans. 'What's the matter with you, son? Do you really think you're so fucking clever you can do what the fuck you want?'
He threw something at me. The Yes Man's mobile glanced off my arm and fell to the ground. 'You thought you'd do your own thing, did you, and fuck everyone else?'
There was no point talking to these two but I couldn't resist it. 'If this is the courtesy car, what time's the flight?'
'Shut up, smartarse,' he snarled. 'Don't fuck me about or we'll drop you here and now. Then we'll do that fucking Pole.'
I kept my hands up and started moving. I wanted to get out of the building as quickly as possible. They might forget about Magreb curled up in the corner.
Sundance retrieved the mobile and came up behind me while Trainers moved towards Magreb. 'What about this fucking arse?'
Sundance didn't even draw breath. 'Drop the cunt.'
I swung round. 'He's just a fixer. You saw on Predator, he's no part of this.'
Magreb's head came up, eyes pleading.