‘Got it!’ The taller of the two cursed and scrabbled his way through a thicket of nettles and brambles to where he could see the sack. It was an orange nylon bag, the sort that held onions or other root vegetables, something often seen discarded beside the acres of arable fields, or in the rubbish that collected beside railway tracks.

The boy dragged it out and pulled the drawstring tie open. ‘Wicked!’

‘How many?’ The smaller boy squatted down beside him and peered into the bag.

‘Twenty or more.’

‘Yee-ha!’ Whooped the younger one. ‘Hey, Marcus? What if we try to make something out of this lot? Even just a fiver on each? What do you think?’

‘I think you have shit for brains, arsehole! You know the score. These things come and go. No money ever changes hands, right? The only ones who get anything are you and me, and that’s for making sure things are done right, so don’t forget it!’

‘Well, it’s still risky, ain’t it?’ The younger one looked peeved. ‘If we got caught—’

‘Don’t be a total turd, Mickey! No one’s going to catch us, and if they did, what exactly have we done?’ He shrugged. ‘We’ve picked up a sack and looked in it. Last time I drew breath, there was no law against that. So …’ he glowered at the other boy, ‘we take these to the arranged places, and forget all about them, until we get another call, okay?’ He drew a plain sealed envelope from the sack, opened it and handed his friend a couple of notes. ‘Just don’t get greedy, Mickey. This is money for old rope, and you know it.’

The boy took the money and counted it. ‘I suppose. It’s just that my grandad told me never to pass up a chance to make a fast buck, that’s all.’

‘It’d be a very deadly buck, man. The last one you’d ever make. I’ve been told what would happen if we cock up, and it ain’t nice, believe me.’

Mickey’s already pasty face blanched a shade paler. ‘So, what’s it all about? Why all this big secret shit?’

The older boy grabbed Mickey’s shoulder. Fingers biting deep into his flesh. ‘Look, do you want that cash? Or do I find someone else to help me? Someone who can keep his fucking trap shut for longer than twenty seconds at a time, and not keep asking fucking stupid questions!’

‘Okay! Okay! Back off! I’m sorry, alright? Just get off me, and let’s go make the drops.’

Without another word, the two boys gathered up their precious bag and made their way to a crumbling wall at the back of the yard, where they scrambled over and disappeared into the copse beyond.