‘I’d like to be assured, Albert, that this isn’t one of you having a quiet chip at my organisation to see what I’ll do. The answer, in case you were wondering, being sat behind me.’

Lewis kept his face stone-like. Not showing how much he gloried in being Joe’s champion.

‘It isn’t any of us.’ Sammy shaking his head to emphasise. ‘We all know the madness that would lead to. Nobody here wants to go back to the mess we had ten years ago.’

When a relatively small dispute had escalated. Setting half the foot soldiers in London against the other half. Five months of killing and disappearances. Ending up with the Bosphorus Cafe peace accord.

‘What I thought too. Hence the meeting. It’s always best to be clear though.’ Joe looking around the table again. ‘And to tell you all one more thing. Which is that when I find out who’s doing this to me, I’m having him. Or her. There’ll be no protection for the bastard. No hiding from me. And whoever’s turf they’re on, Lewis here will be coming for them. And I… request… you all to extend him the courtesy of any assistance he might ask of you. Because an attack on any of us is an attack on us all. Right?’

Nods around the table. Perhaps a little reluctantly. Nobody really liking the thought of big Lewis rampaging around on their ground. Which, of course, would make helping him get what he wanted the quickest way to get rid of him.

‘Good. And thank you. I appreciate your understanding… and your restraint… at this difficult time.’

Joe grabbed a couple of bacon sandwiches as he stood to leave. Because, for one thing, taking food off the table emphasised their shared interests. Breaking bread together a demonstration of their tenuous alliance. And, for another, because Sebnem’s bacon sandwiches were the best in a ten-mile radius. And only marginally less feted than her baklava. Eddie was waiting in the Rhino’s passenger seat. Looking at Joe as he got back into the car. Assessing his mood.

‘How’d it go?’

Joe shrugged. ‘How’d it go, Lewis?’

The big man fished his pistol out from under the driver’s seat. Tucking it back into his shoulder holster.

‘They all looked like butter wouldn’t melt. The boss told them when we find the rat he’s sending me to get the bastard.’

‘What’d they say to that?’

‘What can they say?’ Joe, through a mouthful of bread, butter and bacon. ‘They all looked like sheep. That isn’t my concern though. My concern is finding the rat. Are we any closer to doing that, Eddie?’

The question Eddie had been waiting for.