Then there was an excruciatingly long pause. Jack opened the passenger door of the unmarked police car and stepped up onto the door frame, trying to assess exactly how far away they were from the Chelsea Emporium. In the distance, almost on the other side of the bridge, a black cab driver stood in the middle of the road arguing with two Community Support officers. They looked to have detained a drunk passenger who Jack guessed was probably refusing to pay. Jack stepped down into the road and listened to the radio. Come on! Come on!

‘Driver in custody.’

Jack slammed the door shut behind him and ran across the bridge towards Chelsea.

Dishevelled, mud-spattered and bloody, Jack got his fair share of strange looks as he sprinted along the footpath. People glanced behind him, expecting to see the police hot on his heels. As his lungs burned, he thought, If someone rugby-tackles me to the ground now, I’m never getting up!

*

De Voe sat behind his half-desk flicking through a car magazine. He seemed particularly interested in the Bentley Continental GT Convertible. In front of him was a small, open black rucksack, with a blue cotton money bag inside it stuffed with bundles of £50 notes.

When the office door opened, De Voe glanced up and the colour immediately drained from his face. Alberto said nothing, waiting for De Voe to regain his composure. ‘Is Betina safe?’ De Voe finally asked.

Alberto shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know.’

He pointed to the money. ‘Was that for her? Is that how much I’m worth? Here’s what I do know, Michael. I know that you lined up a series of robberies to occupy the police whilst Betina did the real job. I don’t know what that was, but I’m guessing it was big enough to be worth the risk of betraying me. Did you actually tip the police off or did you simply assume that they’d be on to us by now?’ Alberto watched De Voe’s face grow pale. ‘Not that it matters now. What matters is that at some point I became expendable.’ He shook his head. ‘And after all I’ve done for you, Michael.’

‘After all you’ve . . .’ De Voe got to his feet, though he was careful to keep the desk in between them. ‘You beat a boy to within an inch of his life!’

‘If he was a boy, he was a fucking big one,’ Alberto smirked. ‘With great taste in pizza, though.’ He smiled to himself. ‘What was I saying? Oh, yes . . . are you shagging my sister? Is that how you convinced her to leave me behind? By the way, if she does manage to escape the police, she will never, ever escape me. And nor will you.’