Michael was exhausted, but he had no choice but to carry on. He was negotiating a deal that would bring him millions over the next few years if it came off. He had planned it down to the last detail; it had taken nearly a year to bring to fruition. Now he was almost there. He was working with a huge Colombian cartel personally, and he was only too aware how dangerous that could be. These people were not impressed with anyone, anywhere, and it had taken him a lot of time and effort to convince them he was a viable partner. He had his own rep as a bad man in Europe, but compared to them and the world they moved in the Europeans were fucking amateurs. These men were a law unto themselves; they would shoot their own mothers if they deemed it necessary to the cause, and were more than capable of torturing and murdering a rival’s child to prove a point. They inhabited a world where a human life was valued cheaper than a can of Coke. It was a different ballgame altogether.

Now he, Michael Flynn, was fronting one of the biggest deals ever negotiated on British turf. And, once it was in place, he would be the undisputed king of Europe. No one could have a shit, shave or a shampoo without asking his permission first.

He looked out of his office window over the Thames. He loved this view; it made him feel invincible. He surveyed his domain. London was all his. He had bought, fought and forced his will on everyone who mattered, and it had paid off.

The offices had been recently revamped, and he wasn’t sure he liked the results. With the white walls and bleached oak flooring, there was nothing remotely attractive about it – it looked far too impersonal for his tastes. He missed his old desk – an antique captain’s desk. It had been bulky and scuffed, but it had character. Now he sat at a very expensive modern desk that was basically two planks of highly polished wood, held together by willpower and two pieces of eight by four. It had six spindly legs, which didn’t exactly fill him with faith it would stay up, and it was without even one single fucking drawer to give it an iota of usefulness. Even the chair he sat on was uncomfortable – yet it had cost more than his first car. But it was all about front – he knew that better than anyone – and it impressed people he dealt with.