As Ross had anticipated, the stricken man’s two mates tried to drag him back into the pub. He lowered the crosshairs an inch and steadied himself before pulling the trigger a second time. This time, the bullet headed for Roach’s groin, and the sudden agonized movement of Roach’s hands from his knee to his balls rather suggested Ross had hit the bullseye. One of his mates continued to drag Roach back towards the pub, screaming for help at the top of his voice, while the other ran off in the opposite direction.

The pub door suddenly swung open and a crowd of Roach family and other gang members came rushing out. A finger pointed up in his direction, and every available body began charging across the road towards him. Ross lined up the rifle for the last time, not aiming at Roach’s forehead to end his agony, but a few inches lower. The third bullet struck him just above his Adam’s apple, passed right through his neck and ended up embedded in the pub’s wall.

Ross looked over the side of the building to see lights appearing in the windows of the flats below. He was interested only in one particular flat and moments later he was rewarded.

He placed the rifle next to the three spent cartridges, turned, and took a deep breath before running flat out across the roof and once again launching himself into the air. This time he flew even higher than before, but then he was no longer carrying a rifle. He landed safely, rolled over and was quickly back on his feet. As he made his way to the far corner of the building, he could hear a siren in the distance. He began the long climb down, always slower and more challenging than climbing up, as any mountaineer will tell you.

When his feet touched the ground, he jogged back towards the alley where he retrieved his hat and greatcoat from the pram and pulled on his tea-cosy hat. He’d just reached the end of the alley when he heard voices close by. He continued heading towards the battlefield, a risk, but he couldn’t afford the owners of the voices, whichever side they were on, to think he was running away from the scene. One of them slowed down as they passed him, hurled the pram onto its side and took a cursory look at its contents before he ran on. But then, he no longer had anything to hide.

After he’d thrown everything back into the pram, Ross continued walking towards the pub. There was no longer a demarcation zone. It was all-out war.

The first squad car screeched to a halt outside the Plumber’s Arms, and within moments the street was swarming with armed police in protective gear and carrying riot shields. They began rounding up members of both gangs before hurling them into the nearest Black Maria.

He couldn’t resist a smile when he saw the choirboy standing outside the pub, directing operations. He walked straight past him, and wouldn’t have looked back had he not heard the thud of a body landing in the middle of the road behind him. His only mistake.