When that was done, he stood up and turned around, wondering if there was anything else he needed. Nothing came to mind, because the truth was that he didn’t even know where he was going yet. There were one or two hotels in different parts of the country where he could probably hole up. If he could pay cash on arrival, no one would even need to know his real name. How long that could realistically go on for, he didn’t know. But he had to get away from here, at least for a few days.

Would he be able to negotiate with the Crew? He didn’t know that either. But neither did he think it would be out of the question. With one of their key players dead, they’d now be scrambling to fill that void, no doubt feeding on each other as their type always did. But there was no reason why O’Grady couldn’t pitch his own hat into the ring – from a place of safety, of course. As the executioner of the Crew’s chief taxman, he could make a case that McCracken had been fucking him over. Maybe had been trying to fuck the Crew over too. That he’d been into O’Grady for huge amounts of money which he didn’t intend to share with his bosses. Maybe that he’d been O’Grady’s secret partner, and they’d been doing a number on the Crew leadership for months now, with O’Grady suddenly deciding that enough was enough. That O’Grady wanted to make things straight with the house, and that McCracken wouldn’t go along with it.

Who would there be to say any different?

A lump-of-meat bodyguard so brainless that he hadn’t even been able to protect his employer from an assassin’s bullet?

O’Grady switched the light off, grabbed the briefcase and hurried back down the stair.

It still seemed like a long shot, of course, but he was certain he could pull it off. He’d be offering them a regular and lucrative scam. This gig he had going, blackmailing the city’s playboys, could be worth millions in the long run. Surely, even the Crew wouldn’t turn their noses up at that. Of course, if they got fully involved, it would mean there’d be no place for Roper and Stone. But O’Grady wasn’t sure that worried him any more.

At the bottom of the stair, he halted behind the closed door, opened it a crack and peeked out. Long Acre was still deserted. As before, only about half of it was visible, the rest lying in shadow, but there was no sound. It was so late now that even the usual hum of night traffic was absent.