Instead of speaking, Donald glanced warningly at the door. Rob looked surprised, then faintly impressed. He could see the cogs turning. Maybe I’ve found a good one. Might be worth introducing him around a little bit. Might be. Maybe. Once we’re out in one piece.

The solicitor sprang him out within half an hour. Off with a warning, although if they caught him again he’d get a formal caution. He wasn’t surprised. He’d seen this outcome too, during that astonishing revelatory moment in the cell. By himself, he was more trouble than he was worth. It was his connections they were after, and he’d decided not to talk. Not now, not ever.

“Think hard about your future,” one of the officers advised, looking Donald dead in the eye as they handed back the meagre contents of his pockets. Wondering if he’d brought Donald in too late, if there had been a moment when it might still have been possible to turn him to their purposes.

You’re years too late, Donald thought. I was born to do this.

But, elated with what he’d achieved, he said nothing. Instead he nodded politely and climbed into the black Ford Capri where Rob waited, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

“See, we’re not savages. We’re a business. We’ve got rules.”

Donald sat on an expensive sofa in a stylish living room. In the kitchen, Vic’s pretty daughter made coffee. Time to make a good impression on the main man.

“A lot of young guys, they think their job’s to be The Big I Am. Throwing their weight about, threatening people, smashing stuff up and that. They think that’s what gets them on. Now for a while, that might work, but only for a while. They’re the ones who end up inside. The stupid ones. Calling unnecessary attention to yourself – that’s a terrible way to do business. Expensive, you see? Throwing your weight about costs you. Costs you in a lot of ways. Manpower. Disposal. Retaliation. Attention from the coppers.”

Yes, thought Donald in excitement, yes.

“Course, you have to pay your bills. Every business does. We ain’t no different. You can’t keep going otherwise. You don’t pay your bills, people lose respect. That’s when you get the competition coming in.”

Vic’s daughter handed him his coffee. Her hair tumbled past his face and she smelled delicious. He forced himself to concentrate on Vic.

“Then you’ve got to spend a whole lot more getting everyone back on side. But by then the other side’s paying out too. So then, you’re in some bloody pissing contest with everyone trying to show they’ve got the deepest pockets. Before you know it, you’re way overspent and the coppers come after you and eighteen months later you’re sat on your arse doing fifteen to twenty.”

Yes. Yes. This all makes sense.

“Taking someone out,” said Vic. “That’s the most expensive thing. Then you’ve got arson. That costs a lot too. Beatings, car damage, drive-bys, school visits, home visits – cheap as chips compared to the big stuff. But sometimes, you have to cough up. The trick to this game, it’s knowing when and how much to pay.”