‘Sure, sure.’ He nodded his head vigorously. ‘There’s just one thing though.’

‘What?’

There was a sudden loud thump on the door.

‘Someone’s here to talk to you,’ Bob answered cheerfully. And with that he hopped straight back into the blade.

Chapter Three

Whoever was at the door was feeling anxious. What began as a single loud thump turned into a battering ram of knocks that gave the washing machine a run for its money in the noise stakes. I pitied my poor neighbours. I also didn’t open the door immediately. Hours earlier I had, after all, been engaged in serious criminal activity. The last thing someone in my position wanted was the door to shake in its frame. Despite our failure at the bank, I was convinced we’d covered our tracks well but it was possible we missed something. Surely though, if this really were the police, they’d have announced themselves by now. Or broken down the door.

Remaining cautious, I grabbed Bob’s knife and slid it back into its sheath, hiding it underneath one of my piles of paper. Then I grabbed my kit from where I’d dropped it, shoved it into the wardrobe and jammed the door shut. Satisfied that there was nothing else incriminating on show, I nervously opened the front door.

The second I saw Taylor, I let out a sigh of relief. When I took in his dishevelled appearance, however, my wariness returned.

‘You took your time,’ Taylor huffed, pushing past me and pivoting to stare worriedly down the corridor as if angry hordes were on his tail.

‘What is it?’ I asked, alarmed. Taylor lived his life in a cloud of blithe calm. Even taking his money worries into consideration, his present demeanour was uncharacteristic. ‘What’s happened?’

‘The others left not long after you. I went out to get a pint of milk and saw the muscle on the way back.’

I was momentarily confused. ‘The muscle?’

‘The Wild Man I was telling you about. The Incredible Hulk with the scar. He kicked in my door.’ Taylor grimaced. ‘He means serious business. If I’d not popped out then…’ He swallowed, his voice trailing off. This was a different Taylor to the one I was used to. He was definitely scared.

‘He wants the money and he’s not prepared to wait,’ I surmised.

‘That has to be it.’ He scratched his neck and look at me helplessly. ‘What do I do?’

I took his arm and guided him gently in the kitchen, sat him down and put on the kettle. ‘It’s fine, Taylor. Give me the name of the courier service and I’ll get the money wired over immediately. Once your creditor has that I’m sure he’ll call off his attack dog.’