What did you do? I hear you ask. Well, it was simple. The best tactics are often the simplest. I dogged their footsteps till they separated. You remember I said a target must be alone? Well today, one of my laughing boys – Ginger – took the tube from Camden. At first I thought they were both going, but they parted at the station. The other scruff – Link, he calls himself, though Stink would be nearer the mark – started begging along the High Street. I went away for a while – the target obviously wouldn’t be back for an hour or two at least – and then I came back and hung around, looking in shop windows and buying the occasional cup of char. This Link feller was still at it up and down the street and I kept well out of his way – I didn’t want him noticing me.

It turned out to be a long wait, and it could all have been for nothing because Link just wouldn’t bugger off. It started to get dark and I kept expecting him to leave, but he didn’t. Eventually he sat down in a doorway opposite the station and I thought, terrific. Thanks a lot, you idle, useless prat. It was obvious he was waiting for his mate. I nearly gave up, but it’s a good job I didn’t because the pillock fell asleep, and not long after that I spotted my target coming out of the station. It was time for the master-plan.

I’m wearing my woolly-headed do-gooder rig. I run across the road and grab him by the arm, looking anxious. ‘Excuse me,’ I gabble. ‘Are you Ginger, by any chance?’

‘Who’s asking?’ he says. He can see I’m in a state but he’s cagey just the same. I shake my head.

‘Never mind.’l tell him. ‘You’re Link’s mate, aren’t you?’

He frowns. ‘What’s all this about? Is something wrong?’

I nod, pulling at his sleeve. ‘It’s Link,’ I gasp. ‘An accident. He ran right out in front of me. I never had a chance.’

He gawps at me. ‘He – you mean you knocked him down? Is he dead?’ It’s his turn to grab my sleeve. ‘Have you killed my mate, you bastard?’

‘No, no.’ I shake my head, pulling at him. ‘Not dead. Not when I left. Badly hurt, though. Asking for you.’

‘Where? Where is he? Is he in hospital or what?’

‘No, my place. He’s at my place. It happened right outside.’

‘He’s badly hurt and you’ve got him at your place?’ He stares at me, wild-eyed. ‘Why didn’t you call an ambulance, you stupid git? He could be dying, for all you know. You better take me to him.’