‘Sure.’ Jango chuckled and his eyes gleamed through the darkness. ‘She’s a whore, Mr Manton. I know that place. They only keep her on to oblige the customers. A pound in the top of her stocking and she’ll give you fifty-seven varieties.’

‘How interesting,’ Manton said softly. ‘And just how far would she be willing to go for twenty quid?’

‘I shudder all over to think of it,’ Jango said simply.

The sudden roar of an engine echoed within the narrow walls and twin headlamps picked them out of the darkness as a vehicle moved in through the main gates.

It was a blue Thames van and as they went forward Donner got out of the driving seat. ‘Best I could do. Get him in the back and let’s get out of here.’

There was still light traffic about, but the lateness of the hour and the heavy, constant rain had by now almost cleared the streets as Donner drove out of the yard and turned into the main road.

‘Don’t waste time on anything fancy,’ Manton told him. ‘Any of these side streets will do.’

‘Maybe it’s not so good to make it so near the club,’ Jango said.

‘Use your brains,’ Manton told him. ‘He works Central Division, doesn’t he, and he was seen to call at the club earlier on. It’s got to be round here.’

Donner swung the wheel, crossing the dual carriageway, and turned into a narrow street that swung in a curve between tall warehouses towards the river. By now, it was raining even harder and the unheated cab was bitterly cold.

‘This should do it,’ Donner said and he braked in the middle of the deserted street so that the Thames skidded on the wet asphalt.

Manton opened the door and jumped out. The street had started to curve and at this point they were out of sight of the main road and the warehouses, lifting into the night on either side, were dark and still.

‘Keep the engine running,’ he told Donner. ‘Jango and I can handle this.’

He moved to the rear of the van, opened the doors and pulled Brady out by the ankles. The Cypriot took him by the shoulders and together they carried him round to the front of the van, and propped the body upright against the bonnet.

They stood back and allowed Brady to slide to the ground, the blood that had soaked his face and shirt leaving its traces on the bonnet of the van. Manton raised his foot and smashed the nearside headlamp, glass splintering in a shower that cascaded over Brady’s crumpled body.

‘That should do it,’ he said and clambered into the van, pushing Jango in ahead of him.

‘Maybe I should run over him or something,’ Donner said. ‘Just to make it look good.’