Kerry nodded, as if he could see her. ‘When... When do you want to see me?’

‘How about this afternoon? I know you’re working tonight.’

Kerry didn’t question how he knew this. Instead she said: ‘Where? What time?’

‘I’ve rented a little house in Notting Hill Gate. It’s number sixteen Rillington Place. I’ll expect you about two-thirty.’

Kerry nodded into the phone again, unable to speak properly.

Evander spoke once more, a worried tone in his voice. ‘You are gonna come, girl? I’ll be expecting you.’

‘Yes... I’ll be there.’

He laughed throatily. ‘See you then.’

Kerry stared at the phone in terror. It was him. She had been right. And no matter how she tried to believe him when he said he was only here to see her for old time’s sake, the frightened feeling inside her wouldn’t go away.

Skip Paquale had sent his henchmen out for the rest of the day. Together he and Evander set up the front room of the little house ready for Kerry’s visit. A tape recorder was hidden inside a box on the mahogany coffee table by the settee. They tested it three times before Skip was happy with it. Finally, placing a bottle of Wild Turkey and a bottle of vodka on the same table, with two glasses, he was satisfied.

‘I’m warning you, Dorsey, don’t get tanked up and ruin this or you’ll be sorry. I want her right where I can really bleed her. You just reminisce with her, that’s all, and find out about the girl. Get me?’

Evander nodded.

‘That girl’s a gold mine to us. A real gold mine. Without her we ain’t gonna get a dime. Keep that in mind.’

Evander nodded again. In spite of everything, he had a sudden longing to see Kerry. Really see her. He found he was genuinely interested in the child. In his girl. Hearing Kerry’s voice, after all this time, was something he had not been prepared for. He lit up one of his cheap cheroots and then his mind clouded again. Every time he looked at his hands it hurt him. Through Kerry he had lost his livelihood. His talent. He mustn’t ever let himself forget that.