She turned and regarded the body, her sweat cooling in the November air. The fallen gunman didn’t move, the streams of claret that had partially flowed away between the cobbles already congealing. He lay at an awkward midriff-twist, his left hip propped up in line with the front of his ribcage; the sort of contortion which, in Lucy’s experience, only the dead could flop into.

She risked edging closer. At least one of the three slugs Shallicker had fired had penetrated the front of the leather jacket and presumably the sternum underneath. If there was ever a fatal shot, that had to be one. Not that it made this any easier.

‘Is this one of them?’ Shallicker asked. ‘The Red-Headed League?’

She glanced at him distractedly; she ought to have known the Crew would also be gunning for this renegade band. The big minder’s pistol was still trained on the prone form; the eyes in his shadowed face shone like moons, so intently was he watching it.

‘Be careful,’ he warned, as Lucy squatted down and advanced the last couple of yards on her haunches. ‘I may need a clear shot.’

‘The bloke’s dead, Mick.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard that before.’

Though it was against all the rules, Lucy dug one hand into her anorak pocket, pulled out a latex glove, and after fitting it in place, reached first for the sub-machine gun, which she intended to toss out of harm’s way – only to find it still fastened by the strap to its owner’s shoulder. Instead, she laid the gun down and reached underneath the guy’s chin. Locating the bottom edge of the ski mask, she slowly worked it upward, finally managing to uncover the whole of his face.

When she succeeded, she could only drop back onto her buttocks with a strangled gasp.

Slowly, Shallicker lowered his weapon. ‘You cannot be bloody serious …’

Chapter 36

Frank McCracken was still in Crowley when he took the phone call. In fact, he was still on the Crowley Technical College car park, sitting behind the wheel of his Bentley. A short time earlier, he’d seen Joe Lazenby’s Ford Galaxy come labouring up from the lower parking area, and drive jerkily towards the exit, where it waited what seemed like an age before pulling out into the evening traffic.