Pulling a twenty out of his pocket he gave it to her, saying, ‘Get another couple of drinks, Jan. Large ones, eh?’

She took the money, and turned back towards the bar, but she was annoyed. The girl he was staring at was very young, and that didn’t sit well with what she knew of Terence Brown. He wasn’t interested in many women, she had worked that out herself. But she shrugged her thoughts away; Terence wasn’t the kind of man she could ever question, he wouldn’t allow a woman to feel she had any hold over him. But he had never looked at anyone else while he had been in her company and she had liked that about him. Seeing him staring so intently at such a young girl bothered her. Even worse, she was annoyed with herself for caring so much.

Terence Brown suddenly found himself in a very serious quandary, and he was not sure what he should do. This was a situation that he could never have envisaged happening to him in a million years, but it was something that he couldn’t ignore and walk away from in good conscience. It was a fucking dangerous situation. A very delicate situation, that needed to be handled with tact and diplomacy. Luckily he was more than capable of doing that; the people he worked for used him because of his ability to keep his mouth shut. He saw himself as a man of principle, with old-style morals, which were very important to him. He had no choice – he had to do what was right.

Terence had worked for Michael Flynn on many occasions. Michael had always given him his due and he liked and greatly admired Michael. He had been invited into Michael’s home and had broken bread there on more than one occasion. He’d spent many happy hours talking with the man who had always treated him with the utmost respect and never been anything other than charming to him.

Now, as he stood at the bar of this complete shithole of a pub – a place only the lowest of the low would frequent – he couldn’t ignore the fact that Michael Flynn’s young daughter was there, dressed like a pole dancer, and in the company of a man old enough to be her father.

He took the drink that Janice Evans gave him, and gulped it down. Then he pulled Janice towards him roughly, shouting to be heard above the music. ‘Here, Jan, who’s the bloke over there with the leather jacket and the Churchill shoes? Do you know him?’

Janice nodded quickly. If Terence Brown was asking questions there was a good reason for it.