The black cab dropped Shepherd at the main entrance to the British Museum but he walked around the side towards an office area clearly marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. There was a black door with an intercom on the wall next to it. He pressed the button and looked up at the CCTV camera covering the area. The lock buzzed and Shepherd pushed the door open. He stepped into a carpeted corridor with more doors leading off both sides. He knocked on the third to the left.

‘Enter!’ It was the tone of a headmaster summoning a schoolboy and Shepherd had half a mind to turn and walk away. Instead he twisted the handle and pushed open the door. Jeremy Willoughby-Brown was sitting behind a large desk in a high-backed executive chair, his feet on a windowsill. ‘Daniel, welcome, grab yourself a pew.’ He waved at two straight-backed chairs facing him, and Shepherd took the one on the left. Willoughby-Brown was halfway through one of his favourite small cigars and he had opened a window behind him to allow the smoke to escape, though Shepherd knew that that didn’t make what he was doing any less illegal. ‘No refreshments, I’m afraid,’ he said. ‘This is all I could get at short notice.’

‘I’m good,’ said Shepherd, though actually he could have done with a coffee.

‘There’s no reason we couldn’t have done this in Thames House,’ said Willoughby-Brown.

‘I’m undercover. I can’t risk being spotted walking into MI5’s HQ.’

‘You’re being over-cautious,’ said Willoughby-Brown, flicking ash into the pot of what seemed to be a plastic plant. ‘What are the odds that anyone connected to a South London crime family would be passing Thames House at the exact moment you decided to pay us a visit?’

‘It doesn’t matter what the odds are. I’m not prepared to take the risk. And it’s my call.’

Willoughby-Brown raised his hands in surrender. ‘Daniel, whatever it takes to keep you happy is fine by me. So, how are we fixed with the O’Neills?’

‘All good. So far as they know, I’m a stone-cold killer who’s happy to be on their payroll. Give it a few days and I’ll mention the money thing, see if I can get them to bring me into their laundering. At that point I’m going to need some cash.’

‘How much?’

‘It’ll have to be a lot or they won’t take me seriously.’

‘How much is a lot?’

‘Half a mill would get their attention.’

Willoughby-Brown grimaced. ‘That’s a big wedge, Daniel.’

‘You don’t need money-laundering for a few grand. If you want me to blow the whole organisation apart, we need to be able to follow the money.’

‘You can understand my reluctance to give London’s biggest gangster firm half a million pounds of Her Majesty’s money. What if they rip you off?’