“Red wine, please,” Aaron said. “And a few moments before we decide, thank you.”

Angelo whisked away. Aaron examined Joel’s face and said, “Did we have an appointment that I forgot?”

“No,” Joel said. “Obviously. I realise you probably don’t want to see me.”

“Of course I do.”

“Really? Because at our last meeting you told me to fuck off, and then I told you to fuck off, only I actually used the words, so—”

“I didn’t say or mean any such thing,” Aaron said. “Though I dare say it seemed that way, so I can’t complain that you were annoyed. Are you less annoyed now? Because you don’t look it.”

Joel breathed out very hard. “I am extremely annoyed, and also upset and terrified. I need to tell you some bad things, if you’re willing to listen.”

“Of course. Do you want to talk here?”

“In the restaurant? You probably know best about that. I expect even if we’re being watched, a public place is preferable to your flat.”

Cold snaked down Aaron’s spine. “Do you think you’re being watched?”

“I don’t know. I took an absurd route to shake anyone off, two tubes and a bus, but that won’t help if they’re already here.”

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Aaron said. He lifted a hand as Angelo brought over his wine. “Angelo, is there anyone new in tonight? Unfamiliar faces?”

Angelo glanced round. “No? All regulars. You want I tell you if someone else comes in?”

“If you would. Joel, do you know what you want to eat?”

“We’re going to eat?”

“Well, I’m hungry, and I’ve never known you be anything but.” He shot a glance at Joel’s left arm, saw he wasn’t wearing the prosthetic. “The ravioli is excellent. It’s a first course but if you’d like a larger portion—?”

“Fine.”

“The ravioli as a main course for my friend, please, Angelo, and the veal for me. If we could have privacy?”

Angelo shook his head in sorrow at Aaron’s inability to order Italian food properly, and moved off. Aaron said, “Right. What’s going on?”

Joel eyed him. “I notice you’re not surprised that I’m talking about being watched and followed. And the owner chap wasn’t surprised at the question either. If you knew this was going to happen, you could have bloody told me!”

“I don’t know what’s happened. Talk to me.”

Joel swallowed a mouthful of wine in a Dutch-courage manner. “Four days ago, the Sabini gang sent round a man to shake me down. Protection racket. A pound a week, with a month payable in advance, to be protected from, in effect, him taking a brick to my remaining fingers.”