It seemed pointless mentioning to the Chairman that if they adopted a gloves-off approach like this, it would be impossible to backtrack from it afterwards. Pentecost already knew that; as he’d said himself, the time for discretion was past. At the board meeting, he’d advised everyone that Benny B’s trio of hired guns were ‘fully authorised to use any methods they deemed fit’. In that light, once they’d got what they needed from Lucy, they’d simply dispose of her – assuming she’d survived the actual interrogation – they couldn’t possibly risk her going back to the rest of the cops and telling them what had happened. It was nothing less than common sense.

Even so, McCracken felt he had to say something.

‘Bill … don’t you think this may be a bit of an extreme measure?’

‘Yes, I do, Frank. But we are where we are.’

McCracken struggled to find a further objection. It was a rare occasion indeed when the Crew put any kind of contract on a serving police officer, but it wasn’t completely unknown. Not in times of genuine crisis.

‘It could really blow up in our faces,’ he finally said, somewhat lamely.

‘It’s already blowing up. There are dickheads wandering the streets saying the Crew are finished.’

McCracken hadn’t noticed any of this himself, but he understood the concern even if there was only a hint of it. ‘Listen,’ he coaxed, ‘I know we’re in a spot here. But why not let me take this lead … have a quiet word? You know how persuasive I can be.’

‘Doesn’t seem to be working on this occasion, Frank.’

‘I’ve hardly had a chance …’

‘It’s too late. Things are already in motion. Besides, a lesson needs to be taught.’

And that was something else McCracken couldn’t argue with. Under different circumstances, it was an approach he’d adopt himself. There were way too many wannabes who needed reminding from time to time just who the top dogs in this part of the world actually were. And how better to do it than by demonstrating that even coppers couldn’t be allowed to get in the way once the Crew were on the warpath?

‘You still there?’ Pentecost wondered.

‘Where else?’

‘Good … just thought I’d put you in the picture. Let me know how you get on if you decide to go to London, by the way … just in case.’

And the line went dead.

Immediately, McCracken speed-dialled Shallicker.

‘Frank?’

‘There’s a pub on the outskirts of Crowley, on the approach road to the M61, called The Dog and Biscuit. Meet me there.’

‘When?’

‘Now.’