It was Mikhail Popov's custom to remain in his study long after the rest of his household had gone to bed. His wife had a tendency to snore, which bothered him. He liked to spend as little time as possible in her company while she slept. So he remained at his desk, poring over his chess board. Plotting moves.

That night, he was somewhat distracted. An awkward misstep in his correspondence game had put his Queen in jeopardy. He needed to get back on track. He was concentrating hard, which is likely why he did not hear the door opening, or the soft footsteps on the plush carpet.

"Evening."

If Mikhail was startled, he didn't show it. He just looked up at the man in the doorway and smiled. "Well. What an unexpected pleasure."

David Carter held up his hands. "I come in peace."

"I assumed as much. We are both adults, after all. But I'm intrigued to know how you got past my security?"

David tapped the side of his nose. "Trade secret." He slumped gratefully into one of Mikhail's leather easy chairs.

"Would you care for a drink?"

"Not for me. I know what you Russians are like. This is just a flying visit. I have a proposal I want to run by you."

Mikhail studied his rival thoughtfully. "Do you play chess, Mr. Carter?"

"No. I don't have the patience."

"It's a shame. I think you would make a most able tactician – if you wanted to."

"So... are you ready to hear my proposal?"

*

When Wayne finally got home, he headed straight up to bed. His head was spinning, and he needed to get some sleep. All the things he had seen – all the murders and violence – were playing and replaying in his mind's eye. But for the first time in a long time, there was a hint of hope, too.

"Nice to see the place hasn't changed much."

Wayne sat bolt upright in bed. Was he dreaming?

"Dad? What the fuck are you doing here?"

"I know, I know," said David, approaching and sitting down at the foot of his son's bed. "I should have knocked. Sorry about that. I just thought it was about time I paid my son a visit. Been a few months since you had me over, isn't it?"

Wayne cleared his throat and tried to play it cool. "A lot's happened since."

"Certainly has. But there's something I wanted to talk to you about, and I thought I could do it better face to face. You know me, I like the personal touch."

Wayne felt a surge of hatred for his father. David Carter, the psychopath who would do anything to satisfy his own insurmountable lust for power. But he could not let the mask slip. That would be fatal.

"What's it about, Dad? I was just going to bed."

"Couple of things. You heard about Max Linley?"

"What about him?"

"He's dead. Heart attack, poor old sausage. Massive coronary in the board room. Really it had just been a matter of time, what with everything he's been through in the last fortnight."

Wayne took this news with stoicism.

David continued: "We haven't told the press about it yet. The news will go out tomorrow. But you know what this means, don't you?"

Wayne shook his head.

"It means I'll need you to step into Max's shoes a bit earlier than anticipated. We're planning an emergency meeting tomorrow morning, first thing. Crisis talks, you know. I need you to be there."

"Right. Who else will be there?"

"A few of the partners. Bigwigs. Men in suits. You don't need to worry about it. But I think you should know – I've invited the Popovs."

"You fucking what?"

David grinned. "Yeah, I thought you'd say something like that. But there's a method to my madness. You're just going to have to trust me, Wayne."

Wayne couldn't believe it. Was this another part of the test? Was David trying to push his son's loyalty to breaking point? It was the only explanation Wayne could think of.

"You know, Wayne, there's an old saying about 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer.' You heard that one? And I told you before, didn't I, it ain't over till it's over. There's always a way out. It just so happens that this time I'm going to have to get into bed with some people I don't really like."

"Dad... what are you talking about?"

"Mikhail Popov likes chess. Me and him have been in stalemate for a long time now. Neither of us knew what to do next – he's rich and powerful, but I'm scrappy. I'm a fighter. He could buy and sell me, but I'd fucking rip his guts out as soon as look at him. And the way things are at the moment... what with Silvertown..." he spoke the last word as though it were a curse. "I've made a decision. Power is relative. That's something you'll learn when you start getting into the nitty gritty of the business. Sometimes it's better to compromise, for the sake of the bigger picture."

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"Dad, you're talking round in circles. Tell me what you mean."

David's grin widened. "My son, you have a nice way of cutting through the bullshit. It'll take you far. I'm talking about a truce. If we put an end to this war that's been going on, the Popovs will settle Mile End's debts, and there'll be no more violence. No more deaths. It's the best solution. Everything’s going to be alright. Now, you get some sleep. I want you at the stadium first thing in the morning. Boardroom C.”

*

When David was gone, Wayne spent an hour or so pacing up and down the empty, echoing halls of his home. All along he had thought that the choice was between David Carter and the Popovs. Now he realised he had been wrong – it was actually a choice between David Carter and himself.

He tried to parse the whole thing out. David was going to try and make peace with the Russians. That meant the Russians would have no further use for Wayne, since Wayne’s sole function had been to provide inside information on David’s activities. If the Russians and David were on the same side, then Wayne was worthless. Disposable. Even if he wound up in the top job at Mile End, his betrayal of David would hang over him like the Sword of Damocles. David would hear about it, and he would do everything in his power to make Wayne pay.

Wayne had got used to being the one in control. The puppetmaster, pulling strings from behind the scenes. Playing all sides off against one another. Now at long last he’d come up against an insurmountable obstacle. He’d lost whatever leverage he had previously had. Whereas he’d previously enjoyed a dominant role in this complex power dynamic, now the power was with the Popovs and – though it pained Wayne to admit it – with David. If tomorrow’s meeting went ahead as planned, there was nothing to stop the Popovs from telling David what Wayne had done. It would be a show of good faith on their part. And Wayne had nothing more to offer them. They would look on it as a worthwhile sacrifice for the sake of the truce. And David… well, Wayne didn’t want to dwell too long on what his father might do when he found out the truth.

Wayne headed out and dived into his Porsche. He needed to clear his head. It was a cool, clear night and he navigated the country lanes with one hand lazily resting on the steering wheel.

He thought about his mother. That afternoon’s meeting had opened his eyes in a number of ways. There might still be a chance to start again.

David Carter was a world-class bullshitter, but there was at least one thing he was right about: there’s always a way out.

Wayne found himself at the isolated rural layby where he’d first met with Mikhail Popov. He coasted the car to a halt and turned off the engine. There was a way out, alright. He knew exactly what it was. Sitting there in the layby, he pulled his phone from his pocket and called Yuri Popov.

“Wayne. What a surprise to hear from you. I had thought after this afternoon’s meeting you would not want to see me for a while.”

“Yuri, I need to talk to you. But I can’t do it over the phone. Can you come out and meet me?”

“Where?”

When Yuri got to the layby, Wayne was sitting on the bonnet of his Porsche, smoking a cigarette. Yuri got out of his car and approached. “Nice night,” he said, gazing at the sky.

“Your father and my father are going to have a meeting tomorrow,” Wayne said without preamble.

“Yes, I had gathered as much. My father telephoned to inform me.”

“I’m the one who pulled it together,” said Wayne. It was a brazen lie, but he was flying by the seat of his pants. He had no choice but to take the risk.

Yuri eyed him quizzically. “You?”

“I talked my father into it. It’ll be a private meeting with just me, him, your father and his representatives.”

“Now just why would you do a thing like that?”

“Because this is my shot,” Wayne answered. “This is the chance we’ve been waiting for.”

“We?”

“Yes, we. My father’s more vulnerable now than ever. He thinks he’s got rid of the traitor – I managed to convince him it was Max Linley.”

Yuri’s dark eyes caught the moonlight, giving him a faintly demonic look. “That was very clever of you. And you did not feel anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Yuri said, “that you did not feel anything resembling guilt when you placed the blame for your treachery on an innocent man?”

This hit Wayne like a punch in the gut. He had to take a breath. “What the fuck do you mean?”

Yuri was beaming. His teeth were unnaturally white. “I am sorry. It appears I’ve hit a nerve. But I’m right, am I not? That Max Linley was an innocent man whose goals were by-and-large similar to your own? In fact, you and he might even have been allies, mightn’t you?”

Wayne clenched his teeth. “What’s your point?”

“I have no point. Except, perhaps, to observe that you’ve changed, haven’t you Wayne?”

“What are you doing? Is this fucking mind games or something?”

Yuri shrugged. “Not at all. It’s good to be ruthless in the world of business.”

“This was never about business,” Wayne told him. “This was about revenge.”

“And yet the object of your revenge – presumably your father – remains alive and kicking, while so many others have perished.”

Wayne blinked a few times, stupefied. Yuri was right, of course. Wayne had been so utterly consumed by hatred that he had been willing to let all those people fall by the wayside.

“Wait a minute,” said Wayne, “don’t you play fucking Mister Moral High Ground with me. You’re a fucking psychopath, Yuri. I’m just an ordinary guy.”

Yuri was still grinning. “That’s where you’re wrong. It’s why we get on so well, don’t you see? We are both psychopaths. We do what we need to do whether it is right or wrong. Why did you become a footballer, Wayne? After all, you had no particular aptitude for it when you were young. And yet you trained and trained. You punished yourself endlessly until eventually you proved yourself. It was determination and not skill that got you where you are. That’s the hallmark of a psychopath. Somebody who does not stop until they get what they want.”

The Russian took a deep lungful of country air. “It’s such a lovely night. What do you say we take a walk?”

Slowly, they began to amble across the adjacent field. Yuri had his hands folded behind his back, while Wayne’s were buried deep in his pockets as he continued to puff on his cigarette. “This isn’t why I brought you here,” Wayne said sullenly.

“No? They why did you bring me here?”

“Because I wanted to tell you that something’s going to happen tomorrow. I’m going to kill David Carter.”

Yuri stopped abruptly. “You’re going to kill your father?”

“Why else do you think I put this meeting together? I want your father to see that I’m not pussyfooting around. I’m taking this seriously. When I pledged my loyalty to him, I meant it. But then that’s an end to it, understand? No more bloodshed. From tomorrow, it stops.”

“That’s a very noble aim. I’m sure my father will be pleased to hear it. But is it really necessary to kill David Carter?”

“Was it ‘necessary’ for you to kill Chloe Linley and her two children, and the au pair?” Wayne countered.

“No it wasn’t,” Yuri said. “It was a pleasure.”

Wayne could have murdered him then and there. They were alone in the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere. He could have leapt on him and strangled the life out of him, then buried him in a shallow grave. He might even get away with it, provided Yuri had not told anyone where he was going when he left home that night. It would have been satisfying. Maybe even a semblance of justice.

But then Wayne thought about his mother and father. His mother, who had reassured him that there was a way out of this life, and his father, who had forced him into this life in the first place. The end and the beginning.

“You can fuck off home now, Yuri,” Wayne said. “I’ve said my piece. You know what to expect tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I do,” said Yuri.

Without another word, he turned and marched back toward his car. Wayne stood and watched him go. Then he finished his cigarette and looked up at that clear, cool sky. This time tomorrow, David Carter would be dead.