He slumped against the arch’s front wall, dragging himself along the brickwork. Raised the bottle and took a hefty swig of the cold tea that had replaced its previous contents. Stopped where he was, raising the bottle to salute the moon. Belched loudly, then tipped the bottle back and finished it. Tossed it away, laughing uproariously as it shattered. A shower of glittering crystal shards spilling across the arches’ tarmac forecourt. Enough to get even the most dilatory operator’s attention. He took another half-dozen steps, right to the central arch’s door. Tracked all the way by the camera’s one-eyed stare.

Throwing his arms back theatrically, he staggered unsteadily. Turning slightly so that the camera was forced to look over his shoulder. Shielding the view of what he was doing with his hands. Which was to pull out the still-warm squeeze bottle of urine he’d filled two minutes before from an inside pocket. Jetting warm, steaming piss onto the door. Aiming for the joint between door and jamb. Then eased up on the flow, leaving enough in the bottle for one last squirt.

56

Satisfied that all was well, Eddie walked back up the arch. Looking in at Rocco in the cash room. Joe’s new enforcer looked back at him levelly. Lewis’s .45 disassembled on the table in front of him.

‘Eddie.’

Respectful. But watchful. The two men not aligned yet. Their places in Joe’s empire not entirely clear. Both of them knowing that succession to a role like the one Lewis had filled was complicated. Replacing a man who’d spent ten years becoming Joe’s left fist, where Eddie was his right, couldn’t be achieved overnight.

‘Rocco. You and me need to talk, when this is over.’

The enforcer nodded. ‘Yeah. I’m going to do Lewis’s job. I need the same status.’

Eddie shrugged. ‘Status has to be earned. Like I said, we need to—’

‘Eddie?’

He turned to find the man assigned to camera watch in the doorway behind him.

‘What?’

His disdain for Rocco momentarily forgotten.

‘There’s this bloke. A tramp.’

‘And?’

‘He’s making a right fuss. Hammering on the front door.’

‘And?’

‘What if the filth come and—’

‘What if they fucking do?’

Eddie, baffled at such stupidity, walked quickly to the screen. Seeing the tramp in question – who to be fair looked pretty revolting in 4k – throw an empty bottle into the road. Distracting Eddie’s attention with its crystal spray in the camera’s floodlight glare. When he looked back the tramp was huddled over the door. Obviously having a piss. Which made Eddie smile. Dirty old bastard. But what he saw next made his blood run cold.

57