Now, as he sat in the warmth of a pub in Dean Street, he wondered why he didn’t come here more often. It was a great place, full of people, full of laughter. He was with Jonny Parker and his cronies and he was having a really fantastic time – he liked Jonny, and he liked Jonny’s mates. He couldn’t understand Cynthia’s almost pathological hatred of him and all he stood for. Jimmy knew Jonny was a bit of a lad, but that was his business, certainly nothing for him to concern himself with. He swallowed another Scotch, and felt the warm glow as it hit his empty belly.

‘How you doing, Jimmy Boy?’

Jonny was smiling at him, but Jimmy could feel his concern.

‘I’m all right, Jonny, just thinking, mate. Drink can do that to a body.’

Jonny sat beside him and, leaning across the table, he grabbed his own drink and sipped it. Lighting a cigarette, he casually waved towards the bar for another round of drinks. They appeared only a few minutes later. Jimmy was very impressed; it was as if Jonny owned the place, and that’s how it had been all night long.

‘Here, Jonny,’ said one of his mates, ‘you heard about Black Micky?’

Jonny nodded and said nonchalantly, ‘He knew the score. I warned him, but he wouldn’t listen to me. He’ll get an eighteen if he’s lucky.’

The other men at the table all nodded sagely, the conversation had suddenly turned serious.

‘His old woman’s to blame,’ someone else pitched in. ‘Fucking want, want, want. She could spend money like a fucking Russian oligarch, or whatever they’re called! That’s what alerted the Old Bill – fucking BMWs outside the front door, the kids in private school, and him without a legal fucking earn to his name. Got to attract the wrong attention.’

Jonny nodded once more. ‘I told him five years ago when he was first on a good earn – I was working for him then, I was only a kid meself – but I said to him, buy a few houses, rent them out, get a shop or a café, something to look like you’re grafting. But you know him, thought he was sorted because he had a few Old Bill on his payroll. It was the serious crime squad who gave him the capture, not local fucking plod.’

Jimmy listened in amazement at the men’s conversation.

‘The SCS are all over the place lately. Someone, somewhere is earning a fucking wedge of some description from them, either getting a pass for their own dirty dealings, or picking up a serious rent. Either way, there’s skulduggery afoot.’