‘True, Dicky, true. I’ll see you get your dosh, but keep your ear to the ground anyway for the next few weeks. I want to hear everything you hear.’

‘It’s as good as done.’

After Dicky left Albie brought in Nick’s afternoon coffee and placed it gently on the kitchen table. Nick smiled at him.

‘All right, Albie?’

Albie nodded, happy to be noticed by the man he worshipped, the man who had been his champion for years.

‘I found out that Georgio ain’t beasting, Albie, so all the good little boys can sleep easy in their beds.’

Albie smiled once more. His moon face so trusting, so adoring, that Nick experienced the all-too familiar feeling of horror tinged with pity that only Albie could summon up in him.

‘I would never deal with anyone who was beasting, you know that, don’t you? Now I can carry on with my plans in good faith, can’t I?’

Albie nodded his head vigorously.

‘Sit down, Albie me old china, and relax for fuck’s sake. Why do you always have to be near me, eh? What possessed me to take you on in the first place? I’m as soft as shit me, that’s my trouble, ain’t it?’ He talked as always by asking and answering his own questions; it was a habit acquired over the years because of Albie’s inability to talk.

He looked sad and frightened now and Nick sighed.

‘Don’t worry, Alb, you’re like me own child. In fact, you’re more than me own child, because you’re there all the time, whether I want you or not. I’ll never dump you, mate, so cheer up. Me and you are a team - a bit like Lenny and his mate in that novel, Of Mice and Men. I’ll look after you, son. I’ll never be without you, all right. That’s a promise.’

Happier now, Albie relaxed into his seat.

Drinking his coffee, Nick contemplated his life, Albie’s life, and whether or not he believed all he had heard from Little Dicky. Nick had always prided himself on the fact that he could smell a rat before it was stinking.

And there was a stink coming into his nose now, only he couldn’t be sure where the source of it was. Only time would tell.

He had four days till the jump and Jack Coyne was on his mind as was JoJo O’Neil, and somewhere, tacked on the end of the list, was Donald Lewis. There was a connection somewhere, and he would find out what it was if it killed him.

Nick smiled to himself ruefully because he knew that where Lewis was involved, the chances of being killed were a distinct possibility. But Nick was a betting man. He knew that with forethought and a little inside knowledge, he could at least lengthen the odds.