‘And now it seems as if listening to you was a mistake. Because now those people out there are ready to put the boot in. And all because we failed to keep the right level of fear out on the street, I’d say.’

He stared through the window for a moment. Still shaking his head in disgust.

‘Get a lawyer. Get a proper lawyer. One of those big firms with the fancy names.’

Richard nodded, the implied slur as to his abilities ignored in his relief at no longer being the potential target of Joe’s ire. Joe’s patronage – ownership, he’d have admitted in a reflective moment – brought him many good things. Nice house. Tick. School fees. Tick. The ability to keep his wife in the style to which she had become accustomed. Tick. Holidays in exotic places. Tick. Porsche, 911 obviously. Tick. But it also brought those occasional moments of fear – terror – when Joe’s inner demon rose to show its teeth. Big, sharp teeth.

‘You want me to put an injunction on the papers?’

Joe stared at him for a moment, with that patient look. The one that told you he was trying to work out just how big a cunt you were.

‘I want you to put the frighteners on them. I want them to know that I’ve got deep pockets. And a very short fuse. I want them to cease, Dick. And indeed I want them to desist as well. And I want it fucking now.’

Richard took his cue, and his opportunity, and left. Sharpish. Drove past the hacks and snappers, ineffectually shielding his face with one hand.

‘Right, now that idiot’s gone to play with himself, you and I need to talk.’ Eddie, aware that Joe’s temper was still bubbling volcanically beneath the calm veneer, simply nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking. We need to up security on the cash. Move the counting houses more often. Double the number of guards, and make sure they’re properly tooled. And tell them the next crew to get ripped off gets buried by me. Personally, dead or alive. So there’d better be someone other than a twelve-year-old shooting back next time. It stops, Eddie. Here and now. So I suggest you go and sort it?’

The last two words spat out with the sort of rare vehemence that told him Joe was on the edge of a melt-up. Time to go.

‘Oh, and Eddie?’ Eddie paused at the door, knowing that Joe had timed it perfectly. Let him get nine-tenths of the way out, then reeled him back. ‘Felgate. I want to meet him.’

‘He won’t like it.’

Shrug from Joe. Who knew that he was the only one with any choice in the matter.

‘I couldn’t give a fuck. I pay that bent bastard enough every year that he’ll never have to worry who’s going to wipe his arse when he’s old.’