‘Look, babe, I can’t do anything about it now.’ He sighed. ‘I have to go to this meet, it’s important, OK?’ A few minutes later he put the phone down, and turned back to his two comrades. ‘So are you in then?’

They both nodded. Geoff Gold was clearly thrilled, but his brother Micky was not as easily pleased.

‘Hang on a minute, who told you all about this place?’

Vincent smiled; he had expected this question before now and, in hindsight, he would realise that it should have bothered him. He tapped his nose. ‘Never you mind. It’s enough that I trust the bloke. The fewer people who know our business the better, don’t you think?’

The two men nodded, but he could see that Micky Gold was not that impressed, which annoyed him. The Golds were from Canning Town and they were a pair of blond Adonises. Both were tall, had thick wavy blond hair and dark blue eyes framed by long black lashes. Derek Greene said they attracted too much attention to be villains of any real note – women took too much notice of them for a start – but they would not be put off by that. Their father had been some Scandinavian seaman and their mother was a good-looking local girl who had often moonlighted as a brass in the various pubs of East London during the sixties and seventies. They loved their old mum and would do anything for her. She, in turn, supplied them with food, did their washing, and lied to everyone for them, from girlfriends to judges. They had a good little rep, but had never done the big one.

‘Look, Micky, if you don’t want in just fucking tell me and I’ll stop wasting me breath.’

Geoff looked at his younger brother and said hastily, ‘Shut the fuck up! This is all kosher, and I want in.’

Micky shrugged but he was still chary and it showed.

Vincent wasn’t bothered. If nothing else, this job would appeal to their greedy natures; after all, that’s what had made him so interested. He poured the Scotch out and they sat down in his office at the garage he was beginning to make such a success of. Then he took them through the robbery that was being planned for a bank in Borough Green, Kent. By the time he had finished outlining the proposition, both were smiling widely, as he had known they would be.

‘This, my friends, is what is known as a piece of piss.’

The Gold brothers were only too happy to drink to that.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Four

Cynthia Callahan was looking at the two policemen in complete shock.

‘He what!’