‘Fingers in a lot of pies,’ Beast explained. ‘If you’re loyal he’s a top man. I’m not the sharpest, but I’ve been alongside him twenty years, man and boy. Started at the scrapyard straight out of school, ’bout a month after me. Now, Uncle owns the joint and I’m still out in the truck, picking up scrap.’

They turned off the ring road and hurtled down a rutted track that set all the metal in the back rattling and jarred all the bits of Ryan’s body that hurt after six hours’ graft. Inside was like the scrapyard scene from Breaking Bad and every other thriller Ryan had ever seen, with stacked-up cars and red London buses awaiting their last ride.

‘Got the biggest car shredder in Europe down there,’ Beast said proudly, as he pointed out left into darkness. ‘Have to shut it down at night ’cos the estate lot what lives behind moan about the noise. Back in the old days we used to smack down anyone who complained to the council, but Uncle makes us behave ourselves these days.’

Beast roared with laughter as he stopped abruptly, then reversed up to a mound of random scrap. The pair climbed in the back cage and spent ten minutes throwing out the metal shelves.

‘Is there a toilet?’ Ryan asked.

Beast laughed. ‘Don’t stand on ceremony, son.’

As Ryan peed on scrap, Beast headed towards a pair of cabins and unlocked a door. The first cabin was some sort of site office, filled with staff lockers and safety gear. The second was more modern, with blinds at the window and an air conditioner on the roof.

‘Is that Uncle’s office?’ Ryan asked, as Beast came out and started locking the other hut.

‘Never stays in one place for long,’ Beast explained, as he handed Ryan a half-litre bottle of cola. It was cold to touch.

‘Worked hard,’ Beast said, as Ryan downed half the bottle in four gulps.

‘Got any jobs here?’ Ryan asked. ‘Anything that pays? I’m young, but I’ll pull my weight.’

‘No chance,’ Beast said, as he locked up his truck before setting off towards a battered BMW. ‘Besides, a lad your age should be studying.’

Ryan moved to get in the passenger side, but Beast shook his head.

‘I ain’t your taxi service,’ Beast grunted. ‘You’ll pick up a night bus from the stop at the end of Savoy Crescent. And don’t hang around, ’cos there’s a few guard dogs on the loose in here.’

Beast floored the gas, spinning up his back wheels and flailing Ryan with grit. Ryan had been hot all night, but now the breeze caught sweat-soaked jeans and hoodie. He considered investigating the huts, maybe even picking a lock and having a rummage. But CHERUB teaches you never to act without preparation.