I blinked, winced, sat up with a groan. Fought back a feeling of nausea. Put a hand to my face and it came away sticky with blood. I was in an alleyway at the side of the casino, big wheelie bins lined up side by side against the wall. The mingling smells of piss and fresh rain and rotting food, the October cold keen as a blade. My ribs were raw with pain. Evidently the casino bouncers had given me a bit of a kicking into the bargain, after knocking me out. How long had I been unconscious? Ten minutes? An hour? It was hard to figure out. One of my back teeth felt loose, blood leaking from the gum.

Brushing the gravel off my face, I got gingerly to my feet, the world still spinning. Walked unsteadily out of the alleyway and saw that the crowds in the car park had gone. The casino doors were shut, faint sounds of music coming from inside. For a moment I thought about trying to get back into the casino, but one look through the front windows into the foyer told me that wasn’t going to work. The blue-eyed bouncer was there, staring at me. He saw me looking and shook his head slowly, definitively. Not tonight, mate.

My mobile. I had taken a picture of Ben in the car park, just before the bouncers grabbed me. Maybe this was it. A little buzz of excitement pushing through the pain in my head. I called up the image gallery and found a dark, blurry shot of heads and upturned faces, half smears of colour, not enough light for a clear picture. Ben’s head turned to the left. I double-tapped on the screen to zoom in on his face, studying the hairline, the jaw, the shape of his nose. Could it be? Looking closer, I frowned. It was hard to tell because of the quality of the image, but the harder I stared at it, the less sure I was that it was him. I held it closer, my hope disappearing.

The guy in my picture had a beard.

It wasn’t Ben after all.

I stabbed the screen to delete the picture, swearing loudly enough to startle two girls skittering past in the tiniest of miniskirts.

The street was deserted. No taxis. I googled nearby hotels, picked a Travelodge that was nearest according to the GPS and started walking in that direction, back towards the city centre. Going to the police would waste time – and in any case they’d probably think I’d got what I deserved. There was also the possibility that Naylor had put out a warrant for my arrest. Too risky.