Peter had never appointed a number two but now he was considering doing so. As they became involved in increasingly lucrative crimes and he took on more men, it was evident that he would need someone who could help him lead them. The problem was that David, as his oldest friend, would automatically expect to be handed the job. But Peter was beginning to realise that Glynn was far more suited to the role.

David was already becoming demanding, asking for a greater share of the spoils for each job, though Peter wasn’t prepared to increase David’s share if he didn’t add anything extra to warrant it. They had almost come to blows when Peter had pointed this out.

As he surveyed his men through a thick pall of cigar and cigarette smoke, Peter knew that this was going to be one of his most difficult meetings. Someone had double-crossed him, and that someone was currently seated around his dining table.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘There’s a reason why I’ve called you all here today. It’s to do with the Binkley Warehouse job. We’re due to hit it next Saturday night, as you know. Only, some bastard’s beaten us to it.’

He watched the men’s reactions. Mickey, Sam and Glynn seemed shocked, whereas David remained unresponsive as he repeatedly tapped the edge of a coaster on the table top.

‘Not only that,’ Peter continued, ‘whoever did it had inside info. From what I’ve been told, their modus operandi was very similar to what we had planned.’

He paused for a few moments to gauge his men’s reactions before speaking again. ‘That can mean only one thing,’ he said. ‘Someone in this room was either involved or they provided information to the team that hit the warehouse.’

He heard one of the men suck in air as he digested his words, but it wasn’t David.

‘Might be a coincidence,’ David said.

‘I don’t fuckin’ think so!’ snapped Peter. ‘There were too many similarities.’

‘Like what?’

‘The day of the week. The time of day. And the method of entry.’

David didn’t say anything further, but continued to fiddle with the coaster, turning it over in his hands then tapping each of its edges in turn against the table top.

‘So, has anyone got anything to tell me?’ Peter asked.

‘Not me,’ muttered each of the men, apart from David, who carried on playing with the coaster.

‘David?’ Peter prompted.

‘What the fuck?’ David snapped back. ‘What you askin’ me for?’

‘Because you’re the only one who hasn’t denied it.’

‘Didn’t think I had to. How many years have you known me, for fuck’s sake?’

‘OK, so is that a denial?’ Peter asked.

‘Course it fuckin’ is. You shouldn’t even need to ask.’