Adele peered across at the croft. She could see Glynn getting into his car. Instinctively she ran towards him, shouting his name. But he was soon inside, slamming the door with a resounding crash. She watched, frustrated as he sped up the street in the opposite direction.

‘What the hell…?’ she said, giving voice to her confusion. What on earth was going on? Why had Mike left the club without telling her when he was supposed to be keeping an eye on things? And what were Peter and Glynn up to?

Adele stood on the pavement momentarily paralysed by indecision, gazing after Glynn’s car but not seeing anything. She wished she had pressed Peter for more information when he told her about his plans for the night. Because now she really needed to know. And there was no point ringing his flat. He wouldn’t be there. He was out doing God knows what.

Something was going on and she hadn’t a clue what it was. But whatever it was, she was almost certain that it wasn’t good.

Chapter 56

Peter was on his way to Angels nightclub. The journey seemed to be taking ages, even though it had been only a few minutes since he’d set off.

The red Transit van wound its way through the nightclubbing throngs and Peter felt a familiar surge of adrenalin. His heartbeat increased, his vision and hearing grew keener and his hands were moist. He would normally associate those feelings with the buzz of excitement that always preceded a big job. But now they translated into fear.

Peter’s ears hummed from a cacophony of sound: the animated chatter from the back of the van interposed by the screech of laughter from eager revellers. The streetlights seemed to dazzle his dilated pupils, causing him to blink incessantly. His heart was like a taut drum being hammered by an overzealous musician. And the flutter inside his stomach had become an insistent growl.

Peter tried to hold himself in check. Why was he so frightened? He wasn’t used to feeling like this. He decided to embrace it; treat it as though it was the usual adrenalin rush and nothing more. Then he’d concentrate on doing what had to be done.

*

Glynn was sitting inside his black, souped-up BMW. He’d made record time, taking all the shortcuts that a van would have trouble negotiating, and even jumping the lights once or twice. He’d parked within view of Angels, but not too near.

As he looked out at the club entrance he could tell he was still early, and a smile flitted across his lips. He took out his mobile phone, an expensive but worthwhile investment. New to the market, it was small and discreet, unlike the brick-type cellphones that were now being used by businesses. It also set him apart as a sharp and savvy operator.