Nick smiled at her lovingly. ‘Okey doke, love. I’ll have to get Skinny Bill round to clear this lot out. There’s more claret on my floor than at a Millwall at home game.’

Sandy made the tea.

Alan was surprised to see Anthony Calder sitting in Amigo’s at six-thirty. He had the delectable Sharon in tow and she’d settled herself at a table where she could get a good look at the waiters. Sharon was twenty-two, short, with big breasts and streaked blonde hair. Alan could see nothing about her good enough to marry, but Anthony was besotted with her. Alan put it down to the child. He worshipped the child, and therefore he worshipped the mother. It was his only blind spot. Sharon had a voice that could break glass and a laugh you would only expect on a Jimmy Jones video. She was ordering a double vodka for herself when Alan and Anthony went upstairs to the office. Once inside the office Anthony burst out laughing.

Alan grinned. ‘What’s the joke?’

‘You know Nick’s Albie? He shot fucking JoJo O’Neil this afternoon. Straight up. Shot him in the hands and thighs. He’s lost three fingers and a lot of blood. Jack Coyne told me.’

Alan’s eyes widened in wonderment. ‘You’re having me on?’

Anthony laughed again. ‘Straight up. With a fucking Uzi and all, if you don’t mind. I knew there’d be conflict there, but fuck me, I never expected anything like this, did you?’

Alan shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t, but like the advert says, I know a man who does.’

‘You don’t think Georgio . . .’ Anthony’s face clouded. ‘Why would he want to do that?’

Alan poured out two small brandies and said quietly, ‘I know why, and believe me when I say I’d love to tell you, Ant, but I can’t. He’s used us to settle a score, but then that’s Georgio all over, ain’t it? I’ll fucking slaughter him for this. I should have sussed it from the first.’

Anthony sipped his brandy. ‘What’s going down, Al? I have a right to know if I’m in on it and all.’

Alan sighed. ‘It’s a long story. I only know the half of it myself, but I know enough to suss out the rest. If I could tell you, I would, but I can’t. I owe Georgio one, a big one, and he knows it. All I can assure you of is this: that will be the end of it. JoJo has had his warning, and he’ll heed it.’

Anthony shook his head in bewilderment. ‘Do you honestly think Jack Coyne will swallow his best mucker being shot at? Are you off your fucking rocker? There’ll be murders up north. We won’t be able to set up a friendly game of football after this lot!’