Lewis laughed. Putting the bread delicately down he said, ‘No, Harry. Why don’t you ask him to wait in the governor’s office?’

Harry stood still, blinking nervously.

Lewis sighed. Harry was all brawn and no brains but he was a good old stick and would murder for a packet of fags. So he smiled and said, ‘Bring him in, Harry mate, and wait at the door.’

‘Yes, Mr Lewis.’

Georgio walked through the door with an air of confidence he did not feel. ‘All right, Donald? Long time no see.’

Lewis wiped his tongue across his teeth and said, ‘Sit down, Georgio. Me and you need to have a few words.’

Georgio sat down and stared at the small man in front of him. The air of menace was practically tangible, it was so strong. It emanated from Lewis in invisible waves. The complete lack of expression in his voice was enough to make the hair on Georgio’s arms stand up and bristle.

‘Do you know Harry at all? He’s in here because he murdered a bloke he didn’t like much. In fact, Harry would murder someone who looked like the bloke he didn’t like much. He’s that type of bloke, see. Now me and Harry have a little arrangement. I tell him what to do and he does it. Do you get my drift, Brunos, or do you want me to give you an example of my power over him? He’ll crush your hands, break your jaw, or strangle you if I ask him nicely.’

Georgio swallowed down his fear and said lightly, ‘Me and you go back a long way, Donald. You had me striped up in the Scrubs, and we was always mates. Always. You don’t need to show me your performing gorilla.’

Lewis pushed his plate away and smiled again. ‘How is your harris, by the way? I told them not to cut too deep. Not yet anyway. And I got your message about cutting my throat. Gave me a good laugh, that did.’

Georgio closed his eyes. ‘I had to say that, Donald. I wouldn’t have lasted five minutes if I’d have swallowed that striping without a word and you know it.’

Lewis picked up the knife from his plate and wiped it clean with a napkin. ‘I am going to push this into your eye-socket in about five minutes, Georgio, unless you tell me where my dough is.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Start talking now.’

Georgio swallowed again. This time it was more difficult. His mouth was as dry as the Gobi Desert.

‘Four minutes to go, Georgio. Your time’s running out, my son.’