Four years as a policeman in one of the largest industrial cities in the North of England had hardened Nick Miller to most things, but when that filthy, blunted needle went into Lazer, it went into him also. Blood spurted, Lazer loosened his crude tourniquet and his head went back, eyes closed.

He stayed that way for only a second or two and then his whole body was convulsed. He grabbed at the wall with an exclamation and lurched into Nick who crouched in front of him.

The American stayed that way for a while, head down and then he looked up slowly and managed a ghastly smile. ‘The moment of truth, General. Now what was it you wanted?’

9

The club was just around the corner in a side street, the sort of place that had mushroomed by the dozen during the past few years, and Nick remembered it well from his days on the pavement in Central Division.

The big West Indian on the door grinned as they came down the narrow stairs. ‘Hi, there, Chuck! How’s every little thing? You going to play for us tonight?’

‘No can do, Charlie,’ Lazer said as he scrawled his name in the book. ‘I got a gig someplace later on when I can remember where it is.’

The Negro turned to Nick and immediately something moved in his eyes. Nick held up a hand quickly. ‘Strictly pleasure, Charlie. How’s business?’

‘Fine, Mr Miller. Just fine. Ain’t seen you around. I heard you’d left the Force.’

‘Just a nasty rumour, Charlie. I’m a sergeant with the Crime Squad now. You’ll be seeing a lot of me.’

Charlie grinned, exposing his excellent teeth. ‘Not if I can help it, I won’t.’

There were no more than half a dozen people in the main bar, all coloured. Lazer raised a hand to the barman and sat down at a mini piano on a dais against the wall. Nick lit a cigarette, pulled forward a chair and sat beside him.

The American’s hands crawled across the keys, searching for something in a minor key, finding it after a moment or two, a pulsating, off-beat rhythm that had something of the night and the city mixed in with it.

Nick waited his chance, then moved in with the right hand, blending in expertly. The American turned and grinned his appreciation.

‘You’ve bin there, General. You’ve bin there.’

They finished with a complex run of chords that had the other people in the bar applauding. The American’s eyes glittered excitedly and his face was flushed. When the barman brought two whiskies on a tray with the compliments of the house, he swallowed one down quickly and laughed.