Chuck Lazer held on grimly as the beetles started to crawl across his flesh with infinite slowness, setting up a muscular reaction he found impossible to control. He stepped out of the entrance of the all-night chemist’s and turned his face to the night sky, the stinging lances of rain giving him some kind of temporary relief.

Behind him, a small wizened man in an old beret and raincoat moved out, unwrapping the package he held in his hands.

Lazer turned quickly. ‘Hurry it up, Darko, for Christ’s sake. I can’t take much more of this.’

The little man opened a pillbox and shook some heroin tablets into Lazer’s palm. ‘Don’t forget where they came from,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in the Red Lizard for coffee around eleven in the morning. You can pay me back then.’

He moved away quickly and Lazer walked to the kerb. At the same moment, a green Mini-Cooper pulled in beside him. The door swung open and a young man in a spectacular blue raincoat got out.

‘Detective Sergeant Miller, Central C.I.D., Lazer. I’d like a word with you. Where can we talk?’

Lazer took in the coat, the strange dark eyes, the military style cap and laughed wildly. ‘General, you could be Alexander the Great and Napoleon rolled into one for all I care. Right now, you’ll have to take your place in the queue.’

He dodged across the road between two cars, reached the centre island and disappeared down the steps of the public lavatory. Nick judged his moment and went after him.

At the bottom of the steps, the attendant’s little office was dark and empty and when he turned the corner into the vast tiled lavatory, he found it deserted except for Lazer who was feverishly wrestling with the handle of one of the stalls at the far end.

As Nick reached him, the American got the door open and lurched inside. He pulled down the seat, ignoring Nick and dropped to one knee, taking several items from his pocket and laying them out.

He took off his raincoat and jacket, pulled back his sleeve and knotted a brown lace around his upper arm in a rough tourniquet to make the veins stand out. He filled a small bottle with water from the pan, dropped in a couple of tablets, struck a match feverishly and held it underneath.

He turned his head, teeth bared in a savage grin, all the agony of existence at this level spilling from his eyes. ‘It’s a great life if you don’t weaken, General.’

He reached for another match, knocked the box to the floor, spilling its contents, and moaned like an animal. Nick took a lighter from his pocket, flicked it into life and held it out without speaking.

Lazer held the flame under the bottle for another couple of minutes and then dropped it quickly and filled his hypodermic.