‘Turn the blues off then, Dale; no need to up the ante. I’ll go and have a word with him. He knows me.’

The front door was slightly ajar, so Tom rapped lightly on it, noting that it bore all the hallmarks of previous damage: probably the result of a police battering ram.

A loud, aggressive ‘Fuck off!’ bawled from within in a familiar cockney/Irish brogue. Tom smiled to himself, gently pushed the door open, and walked casually inside. O’Reilley sat in the kitchen with a scowl on his face, stripped to the waist to show off his torso, an assortment of badly-worked tattoos across his arms and chest. The layer of flab on display couldn’t disguise the power that lurked within his huge physique.

‘Hey, Tony. Long time no see.’

O’Reilley’s scowl immediately softened, replaced by uncertainty.

‘Mr Novak, what you doin’ here? I thought this weren’t your manor no more.’ His face turned puzzled and slightly introspective at the sight of Tom.

‘I’m just passing and fancied a chat, as I’ve not seen you for ages. So, what’s the problem, Tony?’ Tom said in a soft, steady voice. ‘There’s a warrant, fellah: no point taking it out on these two officers.’

He paused as he faced Tony, taking care to appear unthreatening and projecting no emotion. Tony O’Reilley was like a dog: he could smell fear. They stayed like that for a full two minutes. Tom never feared a long pause in a conversation, remembering his foster father’s words: ‘Don’t let someone else’s discomfort in a silence encourage you to say something unwise, my boy.’

‘It was that fucking child-in-uniform, Mr Novak,’ O’Reilley spat. ‘I promise you, if he tries to lay his hands on me again, I’m gonna knock the fucker right out. I’m not getting nicked by him, not even for you, Mr Novak.’ He was still fuming, but Tom thought he could detect some of the man’s anger beginning to ebb away.

Tom didn’t reply, instead picking up an upturned kitchen chair, placing it back down the right way up and sitting down with a sigh, his arms folded in front of him. He crossed his legs and fixed O’Reilley with a calm and even stare, his face relaxed and calm.

O’Reilley spoke once again, still angry but the fight starting to dissipate from him. ‘He was taking a right fucking liberty, thinking he could lay hands on me like that. Nearly shit himself, mind.’

‘Tony, I’m tired. It’s been really busy and all I want is to go home and have a whisky. Are you really going to keep this up?’ Tom spoke quietly but firmly, with a half-smile on his face.

O’Reilley puffed out his cheeks in exasperation. ‘Fuck’s sake. I don’t want to go to jail again, not now.’