De Voe’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared as his breathing quickened. He made a split-second judgement that Alberto wasn’t armed and moved towards the door. Alberto instantly lashed out, punching De Voe in the neck.

The speed of it shocked De Voe, but the lightness of the blow confused him – until he felt the wetness on his chest and saw the blood soaking the front of his shirt. Then he saw the small buckle knife, usually secreted in Alberto’s belt, now clenched in his fist so that the blade protruded between his fingers.

De Voe clamped his hand around his throat and backed away, but Alberto didn’t seem interested in stabbing him again. All Alberto wanted to do was watch the man he hated bleed to death. De Voe was pressing so hard onto his own neck, that his face was going bright red and he could hardly breathe. Alberto watched him stumble backwards, until he reached the door. De Voe grasped the handle and used his weight to push it down. Only then did Alberto move, punching De Voe several more times in rapid succession on the other side of his neck. De Voe clasped both hands to his throat and staggered back into the room, fountains of blood spurting through his fingers. He collapsed onto the floor and in seconds he was dead.

*

By the time Jack arrived at the emporium, he was close to passing out. He could feel his heart beating inside his skull as his head wound throbbed in excruciating pain.

He bypassed the main door and entered the underground car park. He was hoping to find a burly security guard seated in a dark corner somewhere but the car park was empty. Shit! Jack’s only backup was now stuck behind a line of angry drivers on Battersea Bridge. Jack tried the door to the stairwell and found it was open. He paused briefly in a darkened gap between a ticket machine and the grey concrete wall, to get his breath back and to evaluate his options. De Voe’s Ferrari was in its spot. Confused thoughts flashed in and out of Jack’s mind: if Alberto was here, as Jack suspected, and he went in without backup, it’d be two against one. He needed that security guard! But what if he was on De Voe’s payroll? Then it’d be three against one. Jack ventured into the stairwell alone and headed up to the second floor.