‘I’ll meet you in the lounge at ten fifteen.’

Miller replaced the receiver and stared into space, thinking about Gascoigne Square by night and the lounge bar of the Romney, the neon lights of the Flamingo Club flashing across from the other side.

‘And now what’s she up to?’ he asked himself softly.

9

The evening started slowly at the Berkley as it did at most gaming clubs, but from eight o’clock on, Miller and Brady waited, sitting in comfort in Chuck Lazer’s office, watching the activities in the main casino through a two-way mirror.

Lazer was at the piano as always, working his way through one standard after another, stopping occasionally to chat with a favoured customer. He looked cool and immaculate in a mohair evening suit and showed no sign of strain.

Gradually the numbers built up until most of the tables were surrounded by those who came only to watch and all seats were taken. It was just after nine-thirty when Brady gave a sudden exclamation and touched Miller’s sleeve.

‘Coming through the door now. The three at the back.’

Miller nodded. ‘I’ve got them.’

‘The man at the front is Manchester Charlie Ford, followed by Frank Butcher. I sent him down for G.B.H. once. Three years. The little bloke with hair like patent leather is Sid Tordoff – a right villain.’

‘They aren’t local lads?’

‘Are they hell – Manchester. They’ve been imported specially – probably via a middle man. You know how it goes. A pound to a penny they don’t even know who they’re working for.’

They waited and a few moments later he nodded again. ‘I thought so. Arthur Hart and Martin Dereham – he’s the good-looking one with the buttonhole and the moustache. Tries to come the public school touch, but the highest he ever got up the educational ladder was class four at Dock Street Elementary.’

‘Okay,’ Miller said, getting to his feet. ‘I’m going in. Better put a call through to H.Q. We’ll have the heavy brigade standing by just in case.’

It was a quiet, well-behaved crowd, mostly moneyed people, the kind who’d run for cover and never come back at the slightest hint of violence or trouble of any sort. Miller scanned the faces quickly, noting that the gang had dispersed themselves, which probably indicated outbursts of trouble in several different places at once.

And then he saw Manchester Charlie Ford on the other side of the roulette wheel. Ford was of medium height with powerful sloping shoulders, the scar tissue beneath his eyes indicating that he had once been a prize fighter. He was wearing a surprisingly well-cut suit and pushed his way through the crowd with an arrogance that was obviously beginning to alarm several people.