“They released him,” he told his friends, and knocked back a whiskey which was sitting in the middle of the table.  “Apparently he offered to plead guilty if they changed the charge to driving without due care and attention.  The prosecution accepted the offer and the judge gave him fifteen months, and then released him because he had already served more than half of that on remand.”

“Why only fifteen months?”  Paul Bennett asked.  “Was it his first offence?”

“Fuck, no.” Gray spat.  “My solicitor said he had forty-three previous convictions for car theft, plus thirty-four other convictions including assault, burglary, possessing an offensive weapon and various drug offences.”

“So that’s it?  He just walks?”

“He just walks,” Gray confirmed.

“He’s just spent eight months with his own kind, learning new and improved ways of breaking into cars, and now he’s free to try them out,”   Sonny said.  “That can’t be right.”

“This country’s too soft on these little shits,” Tristram Barker-Fink agreed.

“They should bring back National Service, give them some real discipline.”

“...or the birch...”

Other suggestions came thick and fast, including “chop their thieving hands off” and “just shoot them in the fucking head.”

“Want us to pay him a visit?” Avery asked, and a few of them nodded their willingness to take part.

“Thanks, guys,” Gray said, a faraway look in his eye, “but I think it’s gone beyond that now...”

Chapter 2

April 12th 2011

Joseph Olemwu desperately wanted some gear, but with no cash he would have to find a different form of currency.  Luckily, Albert Tonga accepted mobile phones as full payment, and at this time of night there was always the chance of finding someone to donate one, even if they didn’t do so willingly.

He took a large swig of Vodka and passed the bottle to Vinnie Parker.  “Robbo told me he did it with Shelly White on Friday,” Parker told him before wiping the neck of the bottle and taking a drink.  Olemwu nearly choked with laughter, vodka erupting from his nose and clenched mouth.

When he finally recovered he said “Robbo is full of shit.  He didn’t shag no-one on Friday.  I was drinking with him all day and the last I saw him he was puking in the stairwell at midnight.  I had to help him to his flat.  Fuck me, his mum was pissed off.”  He smiled at the recollection and imagined the bollocking that would have been dished out.