Jack wiped his large hand across his face.

‘I still think there’s something not right. I couldn’t even get a fax through to them. They’re supposed to be letting us know when the next lot of merchandise is coming through, and we’ve heard nothing. Even the modem line is dead.’

JoJo lost his patience. ‘Jack, fuck off home, will you? Play with the kids, play with yourself if you have to, but please, go home.’

Jack stared at JoJo’s bandaged hand. The stumps looked swollen and he knew JoJo was eating painkillers like sweets, on top of his usual bucketful of alcohol a day.

‘He might as well have shot you in the head,’ he said spitefully, ‘because since Nick blew your fingers off, you’ve been half-mad.’

JoJo’s face was dark with temper as he bellowed, ‘I’ll see me day with him!’ He looked down at his fingerless hand and said through gritted teeth, ‘Once the jump’s over, he’s mine. I promised that to meself. He’s mine and I’ll have that bastard screaming for mercy.’

Jack interrupted him, saying levelly, ‘The way you’re treating the businesses, you won’t be able to sort out your dirty washing, let alone Nick Carvello. Drink and drugs, drugs and birds, drink and birds. That’s all you do.’

JoJo looked at his business partner and only friend and said jovially, ‘So what else is new?’

Jack sighed. He knew in his heart that something was wrong in Sri Lanka, and also knew that until he could prove it, his friend and mentor just wouldn’t want to know.

Five minutes later a young girl with tits like rugby balls and a mouth like the Toxteth sewers arrived.

Jack went home then.

All he was interested in was his wife, his kids, and keeping out of prison. With JoJo going over the top like this since the run-in with Nick, he knew that everything he held dear was in danger, and he would cut his partner’s throat with a blunt razor before he let him destroy everything.

Alan sat on the splendid verandah of the hotel sipping a large scotch. The room was actually on the beach itself, about twenty yards from the sea. The sound of the waves coming in was reassuring. The sea was constant, dangerous, and commanded respect. He could identify with that. He loved to listen to it at times like this, with the only other sounds the high peeping noise of the insects, and with the reflection of the moon on the shimmering water.

Donna’s hotel was discreet and classy. It was for people who enjoyed solitude and were willing to pay for it. It was a far cry from the Bay View in Hikkadoa.