Gratitude was a wonderful thing. Ben said, ‘Oh, I could see that.’ The rope holding Thierry’s wrists fell loose. He slashed his ankles free and then started working on Pierrot.

Thierry stood up stiffly and rubbed his wrists, frowning anxiously at the unconscious bodies on the floor. ‘I’m serious. We’re totally fucked, man. Do you know who you just worked over? These guys are Unione Corse. Fraticelli’s a made guy. Now there’ll be a thousand of the bastards looking for us. And you, too.’

Unione Corse was the Corsican mafia. The kind of guys who’ll break your arms and fuck your knees up with hammers. And then some. Abby had no idea of the kind of nasty characters her boyfriend had been borrowing money from. This bunch had moved on from breaking arms and legs well before they got into their teens.

‘Then maybe it’s time to get out of town,’ Ben said. ‘Your buddy here as well. But first, there’s something I need you to do for me.’

Thierry brightened a little. ‘You mean, like, a job?’

‘You look as though you could do with one.’

‘It’s been a while. Work’s kind of thin on the ground lately.’

‘Are you up for it?’

‘You bet. Just like old times, huh?’

Ben said, ‘Then let’s talk. But not here.’ He finished freeing Pierrot and told him, ‘Pack your stuff. One small suitcase. Leave the rest.’

‘This is my place,’ Pierrot whined.

‘Not any more, it isn’t. When your downstairs neighbours see the blood coming through the ceiling and call the cops, it’s going to get a little crowded around here. You can’t come back any time soon. So hurry it up.’

Pierrot didn’t look too thrilled about abandoning his rathole apartment, but Thierry was looking more pleased by the second. ‘Oh, Ben?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thanks for, uh, you know, saving us.’

‘I needed the exercise. Now let’s go.’

The fat guard outside in the corridor was showing signs of recovery, so Ben knocked him out properly and dragged his corpulent bulk inside the apartment by the ankles. Then they pulled the door shut against the shattered frame and hurried downstairs, out of the building, past the Corsican boys’ Audi and up the street to where the Alpina was parked. Ben tossed Pierrot’s case in the boot, and they took off.

Thirty minutes later they were back at the safehouse. Pierrot was still sulking and hadn’t spoken another word. Ben ignored him, brewed up more coffee, then sat Thierry down at the table in the living room and told him what he needed.

‘Whose is it?’ Thierry asked, frowning at Romy’s phone.

‘You don’t need to know,’ Ben said. ‘You just need to unlock that video file. Think you can do that for me?’

Thierry spent a few moments fiddling with the phone, deep in concentration. ‘Yeah, I reckon I can.’