Steve awoke with a start as he heard the distant clang of the warehouse door. He sat up quickly from his slouched position. He hadn't intended to fall asleep but the events of the last few days were taking their toll, and he must have dozed off in his chair. He hadn't gone back in to Jesse, much as he would have liked to keep him company. It was too risky as someone could have come at any time. Steve looked alert as he heard voices and footsteps climbing the metal staircase up to his floor.

The men seemed to be arguing. He could hear indignant tones.

"Does he think we won't do anything?" Vincent Harley was saying to Carter and Greg as they came through the door at the top of the stairs. He nodded to Steve. "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, not a peep out of the captive," Steve said. "What's up?"

Greg pulled a face. "Harley called Mr Two-Aitch this morning. He says he needs more time to get the money."

This wasn't a surprise to Steve but he looked put out. "Huh."

"Yeah, exactly. He sounded all upset and all, wanting his son back, please don't hurt him, I'm worried sick, but need more time," Harley snarled. "He's rich as anything, he must have the amount we're asking just sitting in the bank. I tried to persuade him anyway. He's got a couple more hours to change his mind."

"I'm taking over from you," Carter said to Steve. "You can go and get some sleep if you want."

"Are you kidding?" Steve exclaimed. "I'm hanging around for nine. See if he coughs up."

"Come downstairs," Greg said. "I brought some food for us."

Steve, Greg and Harley sat in the office eating donuts and watching the clock.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Greg Wilson said, pulling a battered envelope from his back pocket.

"Yeah, right, very convenient," Harley laughed.

Steve looked enquiringly from one to another. Greg handed him the envelope. "Pay time. Mr Brown, Kaitlyn's daddy? Well he was real convinced by our bomb. He paid up in double quick time. Here's your share."

Steve pocketed it quietly. He felt slightly sick thinking about the Browns and knew he could never spend the money.

Nine o'clock came and went. Harley and Greg looked tense. At half nine the phone rang. Harley grabbed it. He just grunted acknowledgement of what was being said on the other end of the phone, then hung up. "Max said no money was delivered. Looks like he needs a bit of convincing," he said with an unsettling smile.

"How?" Steve asked uneasily.

"Some upsetting images of his son ought to do it," Harley smirked, getting to his feet. "We need to show Mr Haughton-Handley we mean business."

Steve and Greg got to their feet and followed Harley into the main storeroom. He went over to a box and rummaged for a few seconds before producing a digital camera. He grinned at them and headed for the stairs.

Carter looked up in surprise as he saw them approaching.

"Open it," Harley ordered, standing in front of the door.

"He paid?" Carter asked, pulling the key from his pocket.

"He didn't," Steve said. "Harley is going to make some persuasive photos." He felt alarmed for Jesse, but he was waiting for an opportunity to show itself. He had to tread carefully to protect his cover.

Harley flung open the door and strode inside; the others followed. Jesse jolted upright from where he had been sitting leaning against the wall, looking startled, and Steve couldn't blame him. Harley had a nasty expression and the four of them bursting through the door must look pretty intimidating.

Harley put the camera down on the floor to one side and stood in front of Jesse, grinning down at him, hands on hips. "Who's going first?" he asked, exhilaration evident in his voice. "You," he said, grabbing Steve's arm and pulling him forward. "You throw the first couple of punches. You've earned it."

Steve felt himself pushed forward so he was standing above Jesse. Jesse looked up at him with wide eyes and a question in his expression that Steve wasn't able to respond to. This was supposed to be a reward? Even if it wasn't his friend sitting on the floor in front of him, Steve didn't think he'd ever be able to feel pleasure in beating up an innocent, tied-up person. I'd like to give Vincent Harley a few well-placed thumps, he thought angrily. How can I get out of this without threatening my cover? The pressure of ticking seconds was making Steve's mind blank and he couldn't think of a plausible solution. He was torn – his cover was in danger, but he knew that he could never hit Jesse. To actually hurt him, and cause physical and obvious injury which was what Harley was intending him to do, was unthinkable.

The moment stretched out, and Steve could feel Harley's gaze on him. He made up his mind, quickly drew back his arm, clenching his right hand into a fist. In the split-second before he started to swing his arm forwards he saw Jesse's eyes widen in horrified astonishment. His face flinched and his body tensed up. Jesse let out a strangled cry of "No!" as Steve's arm started to move in the direction of his head but then Carter called out.

"Wait!" Everyone turned to look at him, including Jesse, who was looking very relieved. Steve relaxed his arm; he had been about to hit the wall next to Jesse's head and delay the proceedings by pretending to be in pain but it was a lousy plan that he wasn't even sure would work.

"Harley…" Carter said hesitantly, "I'm not sure it's a good idea."

"What?" Harley turned to Carter with an incredulous expression.

"Has the boss authorised it?" Carter persisted. My opportunity, Steve thought. An ally. He realised managed to catch Jesse's eye as the others were watching Carter and smiled quickly at him, hoping that he was conveying that he had the situation under control. Jesse kept his face carefully blank but held Steve's gaze for a couple of seconds in silent communication.

"The boss likes us to think on our feet," Harley said, taking a step towards Carter.

"Yeah, to some degree. We don't do pointless violence though. You know the boss instructed us about that. A step as big as this, the boss would want a say."

"I didn't have you down as a chicken, Carter," Harley said.

"I'm not chicken, we've taken plenty of risks. Kidnap is bad enough. But beating up the captive, I dread to think what sentence that carries."

"Sentence?" Harley laughed. "The police know nothing about us. We're not going to get caught."

Steve felt a stab of satisfaction at that – if only you knew – as Carter replied, "Well, I'm having none of it."

"Fine, leave," Harley said. "We'll be sure to tell the judge you didn't hurt the guy."

Steve sensed it was time to step in, or he risked losing any opportunity to stop the situation. "Maybe it's better if we just fake it."

They all looked at him. "Carter's right, we might as well be careful to make ourselves as least violent as possible. Crime without force gets lighter sentences. Hell, I know, I've been there before," he added, noticing that their faces were displaying hesitation.

"I knew you must have used those muscles for something," Greg said. They seemed to accept this explanation for not wanting to be violent without considering him to be a coward, and Steve was glad. He felt incredibly tense; he was negotiating to save Jesse from a beating, which was stressful enough if he could do it in plain words, but he was having to conceal his true intentions and prevent the others from realising his true aim.

Not wanting to give them too much time to read more into his words, he went over to where Jesse was sitting on the floor, grabbed his shirt collar and yanked him to his feet roughly. Jesse gave an indignant exclamation. Steve faced the others, indicating his friend. "Look at him. He looks pathetic enough already after two days of sleeping on a floor. Some fake blood would be convincing enough for the camera."

"Yeah," Carter added in support.

Harley shrugged, looking disappointed. Greg had said little throughout the exchange, and Steve guessed he was happy to go along with whatever was decided. "Where the hell do you get fake blood?" he spoke up now.

"I'm not wasting time going out to some fancy dress store," Harley interjected before Steve could speak. "Wait here."

The others waited in silence while Harley stomped out of the room and they heard his footsteps ringing on the metal staircase in the distance. No one spoke, and Steve sensed that despite the camaraderie between them sometimes the men didn't really get on all that well. They were all here to make large amounts of money, but they weren't friends.

Harley was soon back, carrying a box. A scrabbling noise came from it. "Rat," he said by way of explanation. "It got into the trap last night." In one swift movement he pulled the gun from Carter's waistband, clicked off the safety, opened the box and fired once at the rat.

None of the others had time to react, and they all jumped as the loud sound of the shot echoed round the bare room. Harley passed the gun back to Carter, who took it mutely. Then Harley reached into the box, pulled out the bloody remains of the rat, and advanced on Jesse.

Jesse, who had been keeping silent since he knew that Steve was involved and taking care of everything, suddenly found his voice. "No way!" he yelled, backing away along the wall. "You are not touching me with that thing!"

"Man, this is gross," Harley said, but he was grinning as he said it, and obviously found the situation amusing. Carter wore an expression of distaste but Greg was enjoying the show and Steve dared not push his luck any further by intervening again. Sorry Jesse, he thought to himself. This one you've got to put up with.

Jesse had backed almost into the far corner, and Harley was matching his pace, holding the rat out in front of him. Jesse started to move along the next wall. Harley flicked the rat at him, and a shower of blood sprayed out, spattering Jesse across the face. Jesse looked like he might be sick. He brought his hands up to his face and frantically tried to rub the blood off.

"Ideal!" exclaimed Greg, and Steve had to admit that already Jesse looked like he had been beaten up, with blood smeared on his face and hands and his appalled look to match.

But Harley wasn't done. He lunged forward suddenly, brandishing the carcass. Jesse tried to back away quickly but tripped over his own feet, and Harley pounced on top of him, smearing blood over his torso and more on his face as Jesse squirmed forcefully and shouted a stream of muffled yells. Harley sat back, and admired his handiwork. Jesse raised himself onto an elbow and spat furiously at the ground, trying to get rat blood out of his mouth. "A black eye for good measure," Harley said, and viciously punched forwards with his right fist. Jesse went back with a cry and curled his arms around his head protectively.

Steve felt his muscles instinctively react and had to restrain himself from jumping forwards and giving Vincent Harley a retaliatory blow. They had agreed, no direct violence – but the moment was over and there was nothing to be gained by responding now. Exhaling slowly, he noticed Carter looking at him curiously, but then Harley said "Hey, Steve and Greg, pull the wretch up and Carter can take his photo. I'm going to clean this stuff off my hands." He threw the rat back into the box and left, calling over his shoulder, "Maybe Daddy don't love you, Nathan! You better hope he pays up this time."

Steve jerked Jesse roughly to his feet as Greg grabbed his other arm. Jesse met Steve's gaze accusingly and Steve felt terrible. The skin around Jesse's eye was already going purple across a large area and the eye was swelling up. Coupled with the blood that, although not Jesse's, was a disgusting thing to have all over him, he looked utterly terrible. Steve wondered what his father would think if he saw the photos, and hoped that he wouldn't.

Steve and Greg stepped back out of shot and Carter snapped several shots on the camera. Jesse looked sullen and Steve's guilt grew. Jesse would have expected Steve to protect him better than this. Probably so would his father and Amanda. He was going to have a lot to answer to. I just hope it's sooner rather than later, he thought. We've got to get out of here.

The three men left Jesse in the room, locking it behind them. Steve noticed Carter's gaze on him again so deliberately didn't look back at Jesse. They went to the office downstairs and Carter printed off the photos and placed them in an envelope. "Right, here you go, Greg," he said. "Deliver these. When you return we can call Mr Haughton-Handley again and reiterate our demands." Greg left with the envelope, and Steve heard his vehicle start up outside.