‘I couldn’t let him tell you where the money is – and I’m afraid I can’t let you tell anyone what I’ve done,’ he said menacingly, as he moved slowly towards her.

‘Don’t hurt her,’ Carl moaned, making a feeble attempt to get up, but he’d already lost too much blood.

Jane wondered why Teflon hadn’t come to her aid and then she heard the toilet flush. Nichols realised she wasn’t alone and raised the knife. She screamed for help as she kicked the small coffee table towards him, making him stumble. She lunged forward and grabbed his right hand with both of hers. She tried to pull him forward and down to the ground, but he was stronger than her and managed to regain his balance.

Teflon was just washing his hands when he heard Jane scream. He grabbed a large bottle of Brut aftershave off the bathroom shelf and ran into the lounge. Nichols had broken free of Jane’s grasp, and was about to stab her with the knife when Teflon smashed the bottle over his head, knocking him to the ground. He punched Nichols repeatedly in the face until he was totally subdued. Jane rushed to Carl’s aid as Teflon turned Nichols over and cuffed his hands behind his back.

‘Get an ambulance!’ she shouted.

Teflon ran to the car to use the radio. Jane knelt over Carl, who was still lying on his back, his face pale.

‘I’m going to try and stop the bleeding, so I’ll need to turn you over.’

There was a look of fear in his eyes.

‘Jane,’ he whispered, and she leant closer to him. ‘It’s in the pit.’

His breathing was shallow and erratic, and he started to cough up blood.

‘All that doesn’t matter now. You need to stop talking and concentrate on your breathing.’

She rolled him over, grabbed a towel from the kitchen and applied pressure to the stab wound on his back. Teflon came back into the room.

‘An ambulance and uniform officers are on their way. How is he?’

‘Not good,’ Jane said. ‘His breathing’s getting shallower and he’s cold to the touch. Take over doing this, please.’

Jane moved around so she could see Carl’s face and try and keep him awake by talking to him. She got on her knees and leant forward.

‘You’re going to be OK, Carl. You can use the money to buy a van and start your own business now.’

But there was no movement to suggest he could hear her. Teflon felt for a pulse, but it was weak. Jane could hardly hear him breathing and his eyes were fluttering. She held his hand.

‘We could go for another meal, Carl . . . maybe Italian this time. Do you like Italian?’

His eyes closed and his body went limp. Teflon felt for a pulse.

‘I’m sorry, Jane . . . he’s dead.’