The charges Ferris had faced were many: conspiracy to murder, conspiracy to assault, drug trafficking, people trafficking, blackmail, demanding monies with menaces, money laundering. Every crime a gang boss could be accused of. A huge coup for the police. Ferris had known from the start that he could not beat the rap completely. He was a clever man. Clever enough to recognise a lost cause. But he was also clever enough to know when he could win, and he had expensive lawyers to fight those battles he carefully picked.

In the six months following his arrest Ferris had studied the evidence that faced him. Until he knew it better than anyone. Better than his solicitor and his barristers. He was guilty of every allegation, of course, but he also knew which charges the prosecution could prove and which they could not. Ferris used this knowledge to guide his lawyers and by the time the case came to court the most serious charges were gone. No more murder. No more trafficking. All that remained was the allegation of being a drug dealer. Still serious. Still a crime that carried a heavy sentence. But very far from the literal lifetime of imprisonment he would have faced on the original charges.

Ferris had pleaded guilty to what was left and was sentenced to sixteen years’ imprisonment, of which he expected to spend a total of eight years in custody. He would be aged forty-four when he was released. Not exactly in his prime, but close enough. Ferris could live with that, and so he set about making the best of those years.

Ferris served his entire sentence in one prison. HMP Wandsworth. A London prison, less than five miles from his own neighbourhood. It had cost a small fortune in bribes to keep himself so close, but every penny had been worth it. It had allowed Ferris to run his empire from prison. A prison he ruled.

Leon Ferris had not stepped foot in his office for eight years. Yet he had never really left.

The one thing Ferris had been unable to do in that time was to issue his orders face to face. But now he could, and so for the past five hours he had been taking visitors. All here to pay tribute to the returned boss.

Ferris had dealt with each and every one. Demonstrating his intimate knowledge of his business interests, he had rewarded those who deserved it and dressed down those who didn’t. It had been a full day, but it was necessary. Ferris wanted his return to be visible.

Only now, with the day at an end, did the stream of visitors stop. But it was no breathing space. Instead, it was time for Ferris to be debriefed by his lieutenants.

He looked around the room in silence. Looking back at him were three men.

Kevin Tennant, Ferris’s right-hand man. His closest friend since adolescence. Completely loyal.

Harvey Ellis. Ten years younger than Ferris and Tennant. Bright, capable and ruthless.