‘You know he’s a psycho, right? I mean, Joe’s old man was a decent enough sort of bloke, for a gangster. His granddad brought the old values with him from Sicily. And Joe’s dad stuck with them. All right, it was all a bit heavy on the omertà, but you always knew where you were with the Castagnas. You always got a warning, if they thought you was out of order, and providing the crime was forgivable. You could even plead your case, if you felt brave enough. That all went out of the window when Joe took over.’

He walked back down the room’s length. Absent-mindedly flicking a speck of dried coffee from the Gaggia as he passed.

‘He’s got no restraint. And neither do the blokes whose collars he holds. We do this, we could end up hanging from a hook in someone’s cold store. And not just us. So think carefully, buddy. Think really carefully. You’re absolutely sure there’s no way for Warren to be the end of it?’

Mickey shrugged. Willing to let his mate off the hook. ‘You don’t have to be part of it, not if—’

‘You can stick that right up your arse. It ain’t me I’m worried about. And are you sure you can kill again?’

Mickey nodded slowly. ‘It’s not like I’ve got a taste for it.’ He shrugged at his friend. ‘You have to kill a man to know how it affects you. Some people enjoy the way it makes them feel. Psychopaths, mostly. And some people are destroyed by it. But me…’ He paused, as if searching for the right words. ‘I’m just… indifferent. I don’t want to do it again. But I will.’

Martin stared at him for a moment. ‘Yeah. But there’s something you’re not telling me. Isn’t there? Something that makes you think you can get away with this. You going to share it with me, or just leave me in the dark?’

Mickey stared back at him. ‘You sure you want to know?’

His friend nodded slowly. ‘I get it. You’re trying to protect me from whatever it is. Because I can’t unknow whatever it is you might be about to tell me. But I don’t care what the risks are. I’m going to be with you in this, I need to know everything you do.’

Mickey nodded. And told his friend about Nemesis.

9

Mickey knew how the money side of the drugs trade worked. He knew this because he had information not available to the public. Privileged information as to the how, where and when of Joe’s operation. Which is how he came to be sitting in the passenger seat of a prehistorically old Vauxhall Astra. Apparently abandoned in the underground parking area of a block of council flats in North-East London.