‘Your future. I know I’ve been a bit hard on you over the years, but you’re a good worker, Carl. I’d like to give you a little something to show my appreciation.’

His eyes lit up. ‘Really? What is it?’

‘Just a few quid to help you—’

‘Set up my own business?’

‘You can do what you like with the money – maybe get a flat of your own. I’ll see you in the study in a minute, after I’ve had a word with your uncle Tommy.’

George patted Carl on the shoulder.

*

After a few minutes, George walked into the study, smiled at Carl, then closed the door behind him and quietly locked it. He got a key out of his pocket and opened the desk drawer, which was filled with bundles of cash. He took a few out and placed them on the table. He picked up the nine-inch letter opener by the point, and flipped it up and over so the wooden handle was in the palm of his hand.

‘There’s two grand for you, son.’

‘I don’t know what to say, George,’ Carl said as he went to pick up the money.

Before he knew it, George had grabbed him around the back of the neck and slammed his head down hard onto the desk. He turned Carl’s head sideways and pressed the tip of the letter opener against the skin by the side of his eye.

‘Your fucking tart’s a rozzer.’

‘She’s not, she’s a secretary,’ Carl said, his voice trembling with fear.

George slowly applied more pressure on the letter opener.

‘Well, whatever she is, you’ll never be able to see her again if I take your eyes out.’

‘She never asked me anything about you or Tommy,’ Carl said, realising he made it sound as if she had.

‘You dumb shit! Don’t fucking lie to me!’

George lifted Carl off the table and punched him hard in the stomach. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. George stood over him.

‘What did you tell her?’

‘Nothing . . . I didn’t tell her nothing,’ he pleaded.

George slapped him hard across the face.

‘Your precious Jane doesn’t give a toss about you – she even asked me if you were a retard.’

Carl looked at up at him. ‘I don’t believe you.’

George slapped him again. ‘She used you to watch me and Tommy because she thinks we’re criminals.’

‘You’re not going to hurt Jane, are you?’ Carl wept.

‘Not as much as I’m going to hurt you.’

He removed his thick leather belt, then held it so the metal buckle end was dangling over Carl.

‘Please, no, don’t,’ he begged.

‘Don’t you dare scream.’