‘It was the best I could do. It was this or nothing. I brought it to you because . . .’
‘Because what, Scott?’
‘Because I wanted to show good faith. Because we had an agreement.’
‘Our agreement was for you to get the rest of the twenty-five thousand. This is pitiful.’
Scott raised a finger in dispute. ‘No. What I said was that I thought I could get more money. I kept my word.’
‘Fuck’s sake, Scott. What do you think this is? You think this is some kind of game? What you’ve given me here is a fucking slap in the face.’
‘It’s not meant to be. I swear. I nearly got killed getting you that money.’
Ronan looked at the sorrowful wretch and felt a pang of sympathy.
Stop it, he told himself. Remember what he did.
‘I don’t give a shit. What’s really getting me fucking annoyed, though, is you treating me like I’m some kind of joke.’
‘I’m not. I did my best. You have to believe me.’
‘I don’t have to believe nothing. This is it, Scott. You had your chance and you screwed up.’
‘What . . . what are you going to do?’
Ronan reached to his waist and pulled out the Colt .45. He jacked a round into the chamber, saw how Scott flinched at the noise.
‘Don’t worry, Scott. I’m not going to kill you. Remember what I said last night about shooting you in the kneecap?’
Scott backed away. ‘Please. Don’t.’
‘I won’t. Not one kneecap, anyway. This time it’s both of them. You know what a gun like this can do to someone’s knees, Scott? It’s not a pretty sight. You might never walk again.’
‘Please. I—’
‘So you don’t have to pick a kneecap. Your choice is different now.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘After I shoot you, I’m going to take your phone. You’re going to have to drag yourself out of here. Even if you make it back to your car, you won’t be able to drive it with those crippled legs of yours. You’ll probably have to flag someone down, if anyone comes this way, and if they’re willing to stop. By then I’ll have paid a visit to your flat.’
‘My flat? Why? Why my flat?’
‘I told you, your choice is different now, Scott. You have to decide between your wife and your son. Which one do I kill?’
Scott looked as though he’d already taken a bullet. ‘Kill? No. Why? Why do you have to kill one of them?’
‘An eye for an eye, Scott. You and your family are responsible for my brother’s death. It’s payback time. It was the money or a life, and you’ve chosen to give up a life.’
‘No. I . . . Then I choose me. Not my family. Please, not my family.’
So, Ronan thought, the man’s got some balls after all.
‘Sorry, Scott. Doesn’t work that way. Make your choice.’
‘I can’t! How can I possibly choose who you should kill?’
‘Because if you don’t, I’ll waste both of them.’
‘Please! I can’t.’
‘Then say goodbye to your legs and your family. I’m sure you’ll miss them all.’
Ronan marched forward, pointed his gun at Scott’s right knee.
‘NO! PLEASE! I’LL DO ANYTHING!’
The magic words. Plan B – subtitled ‘The Pact with the Devil’ – was in effect. Ronan almost found a smile.
‘Anything?’
‘Yes. Anything. Just . . . don’t hurt my family.’
Ronan counted to five, to give the impression he was thinking it over.
‘There might be a way.’
‘Name it. I’ll do it. Whatever it is, I’ll do it.’
