In her heart of hearts, she knew that Georgio might have been involved in the robbery, and she had accepted that. After meeting people he had mixed with, she acknowledged she would have to be a complete fool, not to accept it. But so far as the child pornography went, she wouldn’t believe her husband was involved in a million years. What was really worrying her was the fact that Stephen could have involved both her husband and herself without their knowledge. If he was using another subsidiary of Talkto . . . Christ Himself knew there were enough of them.

Her name as well as Georgio’s could well be on the filth she now carried in her bag.

Ricky was sitting in his cell reading the paper when Georgio tapped on his door.

‘All right, Ricky? Don’t tell me you can read and all?’

Ricky laughed loudly. ‘I can count as well, Georgio, when I have to. Now what can I do for you? You don’t come scratching on my door for a friendly chat.’

Georgio sat on the small plastic-backed chair and grinned. ‘I need a weapon, old son. I’m willing to pay for it.’

Ricky folded up his Guardian neatly and placed it on the bunk beside him.

‘What kind of weapon?’

‘Something dangerous. Something small, that can maim.’

Ricky relaxed back on his bunk his thick dreadlocks obscuring his face. Georgio saw the thirty-inch biceps and the flat stomach and shook his head. The man was huge.

‘What do you want it for? Or, more precisely, who do you want it for?’

‘That’s for me to know and you to find out, ain’t it? As long as it ain’t for you, what you worried about?’

Ricky smiled, displaying large white teeth. ‘Is it for Lewis?’

Georgio shook his head furiously. ‘No, it bleeding well ain’t for Donald. Me and him have come to an understanding—’

Ricky interrupted, ‘I know the chat on the Wing, boy. You have to pay him his money. Well, it occurred to me that maybe you don’t want to pay him. He’s weak, he’s not that well-protected really, is he? You could harm him now. He’s vulnerable.’

Georgio saw the light and laughed. ‘You black ponce! You want some, don’t you?’

Ricky uncurled a dreadlock slowly and removed a joint. He lit it with a silver Zippo. Taking a deep draw, he held the smoke in his lungs for a few moments before he spoke.

‘I’ll concede the black part, Georgio, but I ain’t a ponce.’ He laughed and passed the joint to Georgio who took it. ‘The thing is, I think you are up to something, and I would very much like to know what it is. Tell me your story, Greek boy, and maybe, just maybe, we can do a deal here.’