He mentally shook himself. He had got this far, and he had the nous and the guts to get wherever he wanted to be. He had told himself that all his life, and it had worked up to now. He reassured himself that he had the right men beside him, and that they were paid enough to ensure their loyalty. That had to mean something. They knew as well as he did that Jonny Parker was not really meeting him to arrange a large shipment of drugs – he was meeting him to tell him that from now on his services would no longer be required. Well, Jonny Parker had a big shock coming to him, and in a way he was sorry about that, because he liked Jonny Parker, he was a nice bloke.

Joseph got into the back of his large black BMW. For protection he had a driver and two outriders, one of whom was his right-hand man, Linford Fargas, who had been his number two for over three years now and was the nearest he had to a real friend. The men were well versed in what they had to do this night, and were well armed.

‘Shall I go straight to the depot?’

Joseph nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘Is everything arranged?’

The driver nodded, even the back of his head had an arrogant look to it. Like him, the man was black, dreadlocked, and spoiling for a fight with the white boys. Joseph felt himself relax. He leant forward and pulled a large machete from under the driver’s seat; it would take off a hand or a foot easily, the perfect weapon for incapacitating the enemy. It could also take a man’s head off his shoulders if the blow was powerful enough. A machete was the weapon of choice for most of the Yardies except, in England, unlike Jamaica where it was classed as a work tool like a screwdriver or a pair of pliers, it was illegal to walk along the road with them.

‘You nervous, Joseph?’ asked Linford.

‘Not at all. I feel good about it all. This was needed, even I saw that.’

Linford nodded sagely.

‘Besides, I’m gonna take that fucker out.’

The driver then laughed heartily, saying loudly, ‘A-fucking-men to that! You take the fucker out, boss.’