Eddie kept the usual commendably straight face expected of Joe’s lieutenant. Reflecting internally that the residents of Cockfosters probably had bigger fish to fry. If indeed they ever did anything as vulgar or risky as to associate. The paps thronging Joe’s gate, for one thing. Bringing down the tone of the neighbourhood. Or the fact that hard-faced men in camo gear were roaming the nearby fields, poking into every ditch and bush.

Inside the house Ac1d was sitting waiting in the hall. With news of the hunt for the mystery gun dealer. He set up his machine on Joe’s desk. Opened his window into the dark web, then the chat room program through which he was communicating with their target.

‘Steph says the MP5 is booked out for the next three days. We can have it after that. Want me to change the order and ask for something else?’

Joe thought for a moment. ‘That’s the only machine pistol on the list, right?’

Eddie leaned closer to the screen. ‘Yeah. There’s five other pistols. A couple of rifles. And a fucking Bren gun.’

Joe and Eddie sharing an amused grin at the hacker’s incomprehension. Joe patting the kid’s shoulder. Rare praise, albeit unspoken.

‘You watch Lock Stock, you’ll see what a Bren gun is. But nothing else like what we asked for. I think we wait. Change the order now and we risk spooking whoever’s at the other end. And this might be the only chance we get at him. You’re sure you can’t trace him?’

Ac1d shook his head.

‘This level of encryption cuts both ways. He can’t see where we are, but he could be anywhere in the world. Of course if I had government resources, I might have a chance.’

‘But you don’t. So set up a meet for the morning of the first day that shooter’s available.’

‘Yes, Mr Castagna.’

Eddie was pleasantly surprised. Either the kid was taking lessons in manners or he’d just soaked up the idea of showing respect by osmosis.

‘Hey, relax kid.’ Joe was showing his magnanimous side for once. ‘You can call me Joe. Just as long as you promise to replace that purple rust bucket when I pay you a nice big wedge for putting this Steph on a plate for me. Trussed up and with a lemon stuck up his arse. Ready to carve.’

He turned to Eddie.

‘And you and me, Eddie my son, have a journalist to go hunting for.’

31