McCracken frowned as he tried to navigate the mid-Manchester traffic. ‘Gentleman who?’

‘Lazenby … the Scouse git.’

‘Oh yeah, him. What about him?’

‘Seems he wants a meet.’

‘Ah … does he?’

McCracken was pleased, but at the same time mildly frustrated.

It was never his policy to leave his contact details with those individuals whose businesses he was interested in profiting from. His own team made the calls, usually on a kind of schedule: give the bastards something to think about, leave them a couple of weeks to stew over it, and then see if they’re prepared to play ball. If his memory served, it was now over a fortnight since he’d first introduced himself to Ordinary Joe in that Crowley cocktail bar, so today’s outcome was right on cue. But given everything else that was going on, the timing could have been better.

‘We can easily tell him to fuck off for a few days because we’re busy?’ Shallicker suggested.

‘No,’ McCracken said. ‘Could be a hundred-and-fifty grand in this. That’ll replace our recent losses. Might placate Bill a little too. Where are you at the mo?’

‘Back on the job.’

‘How’s it looking?’

‘Put it this way, I’m intrigued.’

‘Something going down?’

‘Could be, I’m not sure.’

McCracken pondered. He’d already pulled his big deputy off important duties that morning so that they could both attend the board meeting at the Astarte. It wasn’t desirable to be pulling him off them again, especially if the bloke now thought he might be onto something.

‘Stick with it, Mick,’ McCracken said. ‘I’ll take care of Gentleman Joe. Did he give a time and place?’

‘Yeah … you know Crowley Tech?’

‘Sure do.’

‘There’s a staff car park at the back, and there’s a lower car park at the back of that. Near the canal.’

‘Right near his offices, eh?’ McCracken treated himself to a cold smile. ‘I love these fucking guys who won’t go an extra yard even for us.’

‘He needs slapping, that’s for sure. Now might be the time.’

‘When?’

‘He says can we do it at 4.30 this afternoon?’

McCracken glanced at the dashboard clock, which read 4.05. ‘Suppose so.’

‘Frank …?’ Shallicker asked. ‘You carrying?’

‘On normal business, why would I be?’

‘Do you want me to call a couple of the lads, have ’em hook up with you first?’

‘Are you jesting?’ McCracken laughed out loud. ‘This is Joey the Gent.’

‘What if he’s got some firm with him?’

‘If they’re as scary as he is, I’ll really be in trouble, won’t I?’

‘What if he’s been talking to the cops?’

McCracken shrugged, as though Shallicker was in the Bentley with him. ‘If he has, it’s all the better if I’m not carrying and don’t turn up with a team, isn’t it? What’ll they have? Be his word against mine.’