Messrs. Skeffington and Branks of Marshal, Carter, and Dark's 'acquisitions firm' were very much not men to be trifled with, yet as he heated a slim knife blade with his pocket lighter and reached for a pair of pliers from the toolbox in his associate's hands, Branks began to glower with the realisation that they had been trifled with very much indeed. The grin on the face of the young man restrained on the table of the small Palestinian safe house (which Branks had 'acquired' by the simple means of shooting the former occupant) began to fade as the knife gained an angry red glow. The young man spoke, his voice still a thinly controlled calm.