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sinister weapon and cupped it in his hand, just as Cal had done.
    ‘Nasty fucking bastard,’ he said, handing it back.
    ‘Don’t you forget it,’ Cal warned. ‘It needed to be done. Won’t do you any harm.’
    Andy nodded. From what little Cal had told him, he knew there was going to be a bonus for everyone involved. He was looking forward to getting his hands on more gear, and making some extra money on the side.
    Cal finished the joint, throwing the smoking roach down in front of him. He stood up and crushed it into the gravel.
    ‘Get yourself in the barn and clear up,’ he ordered. ‘I’m going to sort Bane.’
    Cal stuffed the bin liners into his pocket. He grabbed the spade, then wandered back to the barn, taking a minute to cast an eye over Bane’s broken, dying body. Bending down beside him, he laid the bin liners on top of one another, then dragged the dog onto them. Unbuckling the dog’s collar, he tied the corners of the bags together to create a bundle. Then he slipped the handle of the spade under the knot.
    It took a couple of minutes to drag Bane to the thick copse of trees that stood at the top of the track. Cal dropped the bag and untied it. Bane was gasping weakly for air, blood bubbling in his throat. Cal bent over and put a hand on the dog’s head, leaving it there a moment before standing upright again.
    ‘See ya, mate.’
    He stood back and raised the spade above his head. With all the strength he could muster, he brought it down, breaking Bane’s neck instantly, the force of the blow almost decapitating him. Cal couldn’t be bothered to dig a grave. Instead, he simply scraped off the leaves and topsoil from the soft ground and rolled Bane into the hollow. Placing the liners over the corpse, he covered them with a thin layer of dirt.
    When he returned, Andy was standing outside the barn door, waiting.
    ‘All done inside?’ Cal asked as he walked over to him.
    ‘Yeah, it’s sorted.’
    ‘Give us the once-over. Make sure me shirt’s not got any on it.’ Cal turned around in a circle with his arms raised.
    ‘You’re fine. Not a drop.’
    ‘Stick that in the boot.’ Cal handed over the spade. ‘I’m just going to check the others.’
    His boots crunched on the gravel as he reached the kennel barn, the noise causing the dogs to start barking again. He unlocked the door and stepped inside.
    In the darkness he could just make out the shape of the dog standing in the corner. This one was silent, and shuffled further back into his cage as Cal approached. Cal glanced over the dog's sleek musculature then gave the cage a kick.
    ‘We’re going have to toughen you up a bit,’ he said. ‘It’s your turn next.’

4
    Tom stuffed his hands deeper into the barrel, savouring the dry, cool softness of the shavings on his forearms. Cupping his hands together, he raised his arms slowly, drawing up as much of the sawdust as possible before throwing it onto the floor. Reaching for the broom, he started to work his way around the bottom of the blocks, watching as the sawdust became a moist and sticky red mass.
    ‘Hurry it up,’ said Sam as he entered the back room. ‘I want that floor clean enough to eat your dinner off.’
    The middle-aged man tried his best to look stern as he cast an eye over Tom’s work, but it wasn’t in him to be anything but cheerful; his face was too round, too jolly. He put a hand on his belly, which hung over the ties of his apron and threatened to burst the buttons of his shirt, rubbing it as though he had just enjoyed a substantial meal. He nodded approvingly and smiled, exposing an untidy set of stunted teeth separated by dark gaps.
    ‘You’re doing well, Tom. Keep it up,’
    Sam rearranged the butcher’s hat that sat at an angle on the thick frizz of his greying hair. He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder, leaving it there for a moment.
    ‘I could make a good butcher out of you, son. You’ve done well these last couple of weeks. You should think