‘Listen, I was never bothered what anyone got up to, I mean outside of my job . . . let them get on with it. Only this is different. They’re having a go at my son, and how many other people’s kids? That’s what they are, not even teenagers, they’re kids. I could bloody strangle him. No, sorry . . . I’m not like that, I wouldn’t, only it’s got to me, you see.’

He looked directly at Serrailler, who saw anger in the man’s eyes but not the sort that worried him, this was different, there was a good reason for his fury.

‘I don’t suppose I was the best to live with, but I did as well as I could, I never left her in want of anything, but she’s rotten, rotten to the core, I saw that pretty soon after Tommy and Connor were born, she wasn’t a proper mother, she left them alone, went off, she never sees them now, isn’t interested . . . how can you give birth to four kids and not be bothered with them? Never understood it. If she knew what this bloke was doing, trying to hook a kid of eleven into drugs, I’m not sure she’d give a toss. Well, I give one, I know what they do with them at that age, get them to carry stuff and deliver it, they reel them in with nice things, and then to make sure they stay, they threaten them with all sorts. I’ve read about it . . . only I never expected it to happen around here, I never dreamed one of mine . . .’

He slammed his fist on the table suddenly.

‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve thrown a few out of clubs in my time, their feet didn’t touch the ground till they hit the pavement, but that’s my job. I’m not a violent man, and I’ve never lifted a hand to the boys. I don’t need to. I’ve got a loud voice when I want to make them jump.’

He finished his tea.

‘Sorry, I’d no business getting carried away. Sorry.’

‘That’s all right. But I wonder where I – the police – fit into all this, Vince? You don’t really know anything yet. Anyway, this Fats is small fry and the small fry are no good to us, they never lead us to the big boys at the top because they don’t even know those big boys, it’s pointless bringing them in. That’s why we stopped doing drugs ops, hanging about in underpasses, sweeping up the odd guy handing over gear on a street corner. It’s a waste of time.’

‘What I thought.’

‘So what else did you think?’

‘That I could hang about, get in with this Fats, or try to, hear things, get led to his mates, get trusted.’

‘Start dealing?’

‘Shit, no.’

‘How else would they trust you?’