Vincent had done two more jobs for Derek and he had another couple lined up. Piece of piss, as his father would say. And that was just it – it was so easy. He drove like other people ate or slept – it came naturally to him. From the moment he drove his first stolen car at thirteen it had been instinctive. Now his talent was making him a fortune, and he would need it as well, what with the baby coming and everything else. He was considering buying into a garage; it would be a legitimate business, and explain away any money he weighed out. He had listened earnestly to Derek and he knew that the man was giving him sound advice. He wanted to be kosher, at least outwardly anyway, and a garage would be ideal for him. He loved nothing more than tampering with cars so, all in all, it would be a win-win situation.

As he sat in the pub in Wapping waiting for Derek Greene to bring his new employers to meet him, he saw a girl watching him. Smiling at her, he realised she was familiar, only he wasn’t sure where he knew her from. She wasn’t local anyway. Pleased that such a nice-looking girl was eyeing him, he sipped at his orange juice, before turning his attention to the door.

The girl was already gone by the time he looked back, and he forgot about her immediately and got on with waiting. He was a patient lad in that respect, and in his job that was what you had to be – patient and calm. Luckily, he possessed both traits in spades.

It was ten minutes later when he saw Derek walk over that it came to him where he had seen the girl before. Getting up, he looked at Derek and said quietly, ‘Fuck off now, Del Boy. I think I was just eyeballed by one of the staff of the bank we blagged in Essex. I’m sure I recognised her from our recce.’

Derek didn’t need telling twice, and he left immediately. Phoning the other two people who should have been on the meet he told them it was off, grateful that Vincent had the nous not to drag everyone else into his business. He went back to the yard and telephoned Terry Marchant; he had to give him a heads-up, and assure him that young Vincent would not be swayed. He only hoped that what he was saying was the truth, and the lad didn’t succumb to the police offering him a deal. He didn’t think the boy was capable of that kind of treachery, but you never really knew anybody until the chips were down. Harder men than him had served up their mates at the thought of a big lump.