But throughout these ruminations, Lazenby increasingly found himself distracted by how small their canvas bag was. It didn’t look big enough, not for the coke as well. And indeed, once the money was loaded, the bag was zipped closed and kicked backward into the shadows. Lazenby watched, increasingly bemused, as the taller bandit now zipped up the original sports bag, with the coke still inside it, and tossed it back into the lock-up.

Were they simply here to teach him a lesson then? Taking every spare penny he had as a down-payment on future deals? He supposed that might be one underworld method.

But then something even more bewildering happened.

The taller bandit walked around to the other side of the Galaxy, bent down and picked something up. There was a metallic snick – the sound a cigarette lighter makes when being struck – followed by a burst of wavering light. When he came back, he was carrying a two-pint glass bottle full of greyish liquid, with a burning rag stuffed into the neck.

‘What the fu …’ Lazenby shouted, diving out of the way as the guy flung it into the lock-up.

It exploded furiously, the blazing payload engulfing the old clothes, the decrepit furniture, and the bag containing the cocaine.

‘Are you fucking nuts!’ Lazenby screamed, scrambling back to his feet and trying to approach the open doorway, but inevitably being driven back by the heat of the flame-filled interior. ‘There’s over four-hundred grand’s worth of dope in there!’

He never noticed the reply coming – in the shape of a sub-machine gun’s walnut stock, which slammed into the side of his jawbone with such force that he literally saw stars as the world cavorted around him, and the damp tarmac rushed up to his face.

As Ordinary Joe Lazenby lay there, groggy, only half aware of the hot blood filling his mouth, a wool-clad face appeared next to his ear, and whispered: ‘Not anymore.’

Chapter 10

Lucy clocked on at eight the next morning, and found a memo on her desk from DI Beardmore.

Report to Robbery Squad at 1st opp. Liaise with DS Tucker

(they’ve got you for one week – after that, we reappraise)

Lucy stood up from her desk just as Beardmore entered the DO.

‘You sure you can spare me for a week, boss?’ she asked.

‘No, I’m not,’ he said, pulling a face and stripping off his coat as he headed into his office. ‘But you started this thing, Lucy. Only seems fair you get a sniff of wherever it’s leading.’

She halted in his office door. ‘What about the break-ins on Hatchwood Green?’

Beardmore rustled distractedly through the usual pile of bumph that always seemed to accumulate on his desk during the hours of darkness. ‘I’m sure Harry can carry that for a few days.’

‘He’ll whinge.’