Ricky sighed heavily. ‘Give me a lift, man. I’ll make my own way after that, OK?’

Eric, not sure what to do for the first time in his life, heard Jonnie H. say to the black man: ‘Was you the only one taken out? Was anyone else to go?’

Ricky shook his head. ‘Let’s get going, man. I’ll tell you all about it once it’s quiet, OK? The filth won’t be long coming, you can bet your bottom dollar one of this lot’s got a car phone.’

He pointed at the lines of cars and next thing he knew he was on the back of a motorbike and they were bumping over the ploughed field that took them past the Devil’s Bridge and to the chop. Just as the police arrived on the scene, sirens wailing and faces red with embarrassment.

As they approached the footbridge for the chop, the police gained on them. Jumping off the bikes, the men pulled out handguns and shot at the police cars’ tyres. All the policemen dropped down in their seats, fearful of the consequences if they got out. They watched as the six men ran over the footbridge, and called in on their car radios for more assistance and to give as much information as they could. They could not even see what cars the villains were getting into because of the position of the bridge itself.

Freddie Carver took one look at the man with Eric and said: ‘Who the fucking hell is that?’ Rolling his eyes heavenwards, Eric was removing his overalls and jumper and trying to get changed quick enough to get away and find out what the hell was going on. The men were throwing the overalls into the boots of the cars.

Jonnie H. shouted across at Eric: ‘What are you going to do with him?’

He shook his head. ‘I don’t know yet. You’d better come with me.’ He pushed Ricky into the front seat of a motor, and down into the footrest out of the way, then he got in the back of the Cosworth with Jonnie H. Harry pulled away and they drove sedately along the country road so as not to bring any attention to themselves.

Tidying up his shirt, Eric put on a tie and slipped on a suit jacket. Without the balaclava and overalls, both men looked like normal businessmen on their way home from work. Jonnie H., shrugging on a tweed jacket and a red tie, looked at the huge black man crouched in the footrest and shook his head sagely.

‘This is going to cause untold hag, Eric - you do realise that, don’t you?’

Eric laughed. ‘What a fucking turn-out! Who are you, mate - and where the fuck is Georgio Brunos?’

Ricky, smiling widely at his piece of good luck, said: ‘Let’s get on our way and then I’ll tell you what happened. ’