There’s an unexpected vampire bite to the chill late October night air. Car horns blare. The laughter and chatter of late-nighters competes with the cacophony of too much traffic, even at this late hour. The residual smell of burgers, diesel and urine wafts round me. City smells – I love them. That’s why I’m driving with my car window halfway down. When I depart for pastures new, I shall miss this. The constant noise, the city aromas and, the cherry on top, all the people intent on minding their own business.

There it is, Ava’s – what used to be Dan Jeavons’ old nightclub. Now it belongs to Eva Foxton, Dan’s successor.

Hedda, my eyes within Eva’s organization, is inside. Almost three years ago, when I’d been trying to track down a missing bouncer who worked at the nightclub, I’d spotted Hedda entering the place. She was going to work in the kitchen as a sous-chef. I’d recognized her at once. Her husband, an ex-cop, had been banged up on corruption charges – not the sort of news Hedda had wanted to become common knowledge. It’d been a fraught negotiation, but I’d persuaded Hedda to provide me with info on Eva and her exploits as and when required – plus there would be a generous fee for services rendered. Although reluctant, she’d finally agreed. Even way back then, I knew Eva was one to watch.

Within the last hour, Hedda had sent me an urgent message to come and get her out. She’s afraid her cover has been blown, which – if true – is a damned shame. Over the years, the intel Hedda provided has proved priceless. What had she done to give herself away? It sure as hell can’t be my fault.

It might be a ploy to bleed me for more money. If, however, her fears are justified, we have a problem. On any other day of the week, extracting Hedda would be a straight in-and-out job – but not this evening.

This evening, I know for a fact that Eva is in there too. And, where Eva goes, at least two – usually more – of her armed, muscle-headed minions go as well. With her neatly bobbed silver hair, her cyanotic shade of lipstick and her round-framed, rimless glasses, she looks like a soap-opera regular just waiting to dish out praise and punishment in equal measure. Those who underestimate her because of her appearance or the quiet way she speaks don’t live to repeat the same mistake.

I used to work for Dan on a mutual backscratching basis. I’d provide him with info as and when requested or required and he’d do the same for me. It’d been a symbiotic relationship based on need and greed – and it worked. But then Dan was inconvenient enough to get himself killed. And Eva had firmly closed the door on my services. Bitch!