He was pleased with himself, he was cocky, he was expecting to be patted on the back by this guy from Manchester who was several rungs up the ladder from him, would maybe even give a leg-up there himself if he played his cards right. You stupid little git, Simon thought and almost said aloud.

‘What’s the next job then?’

‘When you’re told.’ Simon leaned across the table. ‘He saw you. Both of you.’

Fats flinched, shook his head. ‘We was too quick.’

‘Who was he?’

The ginger weasel shrugged. ‘Nobody. Pond life. Don’t matter.’

‘Oh it matters.’

But the note in his voice passed the man by, as everything would for as long as he was blinded by his own cleverness.

‘He did see you.’

‘No he didn’t.’

‘How long had he been outside the shop in the dark?’

‘Dunno.’

‘You see a car, a motorbike?’

‘Nope.’

‘Torch beam?’

‘I was in the back out of sight, wasn’t I? He didn’t see anything.’

‘Chances are he’s got your faces photographed on his brain as well as on his phone.’

A flicker of uncertainty in the man’s eyes but it was gone in a second. ‘Not him.’

‘All right. Now finish that, get up and follow me.’

‘What you . . . where to?’

‘You’ll find out.’

Fats attempted a grin. ‘Manchester?’

‘Move.’

Serrailler went first, and as he passed the table beside the door, dropped a fiver in front of the bag woman.

Fats shook his head and then walked next to Serrailler, docile as a puppy, all the way to the cab rank.

‘Get in.’ He got in.

Serrailler knew the cabby and the cabby knew him and what the nod he gave him meant.

Five minutes later, they were pulling up at the station.

Fifty

There was no way he could keep Ginger beyond three hours and even that was pushing it.

‘Anyone free? Bilaval? Donna? Come on, you’re not all banked up. Where’s Denzil? Ah, on cue.’

‘Guv?’