As soon as Peter had them all seated around his dining table he said, ‘Right, lads, first up you need to know that I’ve had to let Dave go.’

Mickey let out a gasp as he and Sam stared at Peter, open-mouthed.

Peter swallowed. ‘He’s let me down… badly. We can’t carry him any more so he had to go.’

He noticed Mickey and Sam exchange surprised glances but he wasn’t prepared to go into any more detail. It was done and there was no point harping on about it. He had to focus on the future.

‘Let’s move on,’ he said quickly, letting them know that the subject of David was now closed. ‘We’re stepping things up a bit. The next job we do, we’ll all be tooled up. I’m taking no fuckin’ chances.’

He handed out the guns to Glynn, Mickey and Sam, and put the fourth one to one side. He already had his own gun, which was hidden somewhere safe where no one would find it.

Mickey whistled. ‘Nice one,’ he said. ‘These’ll do the job.’

‘Yeah, but don’t forget,’ said Peter, ‘no fuckin’ shooting unless you have to.’

Although Peter had closed the subject of David, his mind was still on him as he briefly remembered how David had shot a security guard dead during a previous job. He could tell that his men knew what he was thinking, too.

‘These are just frighteners,’ he continued. ‘Maybe the next have-a-go hero will think twice if we’re all tooled up. Right, now down to business,’ he said.

He walked over to the sideboard and took out some plans. ‘Follow me, lads,’ he said, leading them through to the dining room where he unfolded several sheets of paper and placed them on the dining table.

The men crowded round to take a look. ‘I told you we were stepping it up,’ he said. ‘This firm takes loads of cash. It’s well worth a go.’

The men stared at the plans, which had been drawn up with meticulous attention to detail. They showed Smart and Sons’ cash and carry, together with the street where it was situated in Trafford Park and the various other buildings near to the firm.

‘We need to track what happens to the cash they take,’ said Peter. ‘Does a firm collect it? Or does one of the directors take it to the bank? How often is it taken to the bank, and whereabouts in the building is it stored in the meantime? Let’s find out their pattern. But don’t make it fuckin’ obvious.

‘You see that?’ he asked, pointing to a diagram of a pub, which was situated across the road from their target. ‘That’s where we’re gonna start. They rent out rooms. So, Mickey, you’re gonna book yourself in under an alias and then keep a lookout, see what goes on.’