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‘You’re that guy,’ Steeleye said. ‘The one those Russian gangsters will pay five million dollars for.’

‘I am?’ Koenig said.

‘No question. Spax over there’ – he tilted his head at the pockmarked guy, the one who’d sent the SMS – ‘likes to trawl the dark web. See if there are any jobs we can do for pocket money. He sent me a link. I went outside to check.’

‘And to collect your Glock.’

‘Er, what’s this about a five-million-dollar bounty, Koenig?’ Danielle said. ‘Because if it’s true, that’s the type of thing you mention before we step into the roughest pub in Manchester. Not afterwards. Not after some one-eyed arsehole has pulled a gun from his pocket.’

‘Yes, that was a stroke of luck,’ Koenig said.

‘Luck?’ Danielle said. ‘You think that was lucky?’

‘If Stan had pulled a Saturday night special, we’d have had to go someplace else. But Stan didn’t pull a Saturday night special. Stan pulled a Glock 46. And the Glock 46 is a rare beast. I’ve never even seen one before. No way does this pinhead have the connections to bring in guns like these from mainland Europe. Any arms dealer capable of getting his hands on a Glock 46 would run a mile from these clowns. That means Stan has a local supplier. An intermediary. Someone who can deal with the street thugs and the guys who import high-quality guns. It’s this guy we want. And Stan’s going to tell us. That’s why it was a stroke of luck. It’s lucky for Stan as well. Because even though he’s pulled a gun on me, he gets to live. So, yay for him.’

Stan’s brow furrowed. ‘ We sell the guns around here,’ he said.

‘You guys couldn’t pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were on the heel,’ Koenig said. ‘But here’s the deal – tell me who you bought the Glock from, and I’ll pretend you didn’t point it at me. This offer expires soon.’

‘You’re a cocky bastard, aren’t you?’ Steeleye said. ‘Especially for someone locked in a room with five armed men.’

‘ One armed man,’ Koenig said. ‘And you’ve got it the wrong way around, Stan. I’m not locked in here with the five of you. You’re locked in here with me .’

Steeleye’s right hand was still resting on top of the Glock. His index finger was inside the trigger guard. But because they were seated at the bar facing each other, the Glock’s barrel wasn’t pointing at Koenig. For that to happen, Steeleye would have had to hold it at an unnatural angle. Or rest it on his knee. Or hold it in his left hand. Koenig had trained on CQB ranges and could shoot right- or left-handed. He doubted a low-rate thug like Stan could say the same. Which was why the Glock was pointing between Koenig and the barman. If the barman was twelve o’clock and Koenig was three o’clock, the Glock would be pointing at two o’clock. Maybe one-thirty.

It would only take Steeleye a fraction of a second to move the Glock 46 to three o’clock. And then he would shoot Koenig. Probably in the stomach. Then he’d shoot Danielle.

A fraction of a second. That’s how long it would take.

More than enough time.