He glanced over to where Georgio stood watching him, and grinned. ‘Terrible news about Frankie White, ain’t it? Gunned down with his little boy in his arms. What a ruthless bastard he must have been. The gunman, not Frankie. Frankie’s trouble was, he thought he was a hard man.’ Lewis shook his head in mock disgust. ‘But all the same, a little baby. What is the world coming to? Still, good job his wife wasn’t there, they might have topped her and all. It’s a vicious world out there, Georgio, absolutely vicious. How’s your little wife by the way?’

Georgio bit on his lip and watched Lewis like a mouse watches a snake. Warily and with a grudging respect.

‘What’s the matter, Georgio? Cat got your tongue? Answer Mr Lewis.’

Derek Marchant was one of Lewis’s lesser henchmen and he wanted to rise in the ranks. Baiting Brunos looked like the way to do it. Everyone knew Lewis had it in for the Greek git.

Georgio turned his gaze on Derek and the man felt the force of Georgio’s wrath then. A prickle of fear ran up his spine.

Georgio stood up. ‘What did you say?’

Marchant was in a quandary. If he backed down now Lewis would disown him. Lewis only went for people who could look out for themselves, and for him. But one look at Brunos told him he had made a fatal mistake. He glanced around and noticed that Lewis’s men were all waiting for his word before they moved.

Marchant shrugged, trying to look relaxed. ‘You fucking heard.’

Georgio walked over to where Marchant was sitting down and peered into his face. The atmosphere was electric now. Men stopped playing cards and chatting quietly to watch Georgio front up Marchant.

‘You trying to say I’m fucking Mutt and Jeff now, eh? Just what are you trying to do, Derek? Want a fucking row with me, do you? Come on then, get up and I’ll row with you. Come on . . . don’t sit there, get up!’ Georgio’s voice ended on a loud bellow.

Then, dragging Marchant from the chair, he punched him to the ground. Holding the man’s hair in a vice-like grip, he smashed his face into the metal arm of the chair. He repeated the action five times, savouring the running blood and the release of his pent-up energy. Then he let go and watched Marchant slump to the floor. Turning round, he let his gaze roam over all the occupants in the room.

‘Anyone else up for it then? Come on, I’m in the mood. Who else wants a go then?’

No one spoke. Lewis watched him warily. Bringing back his foot, Georgio kicked Marchant repeatedly in the groin. Finally spent, he stared down at the man on the floor for a few moments before looking around him once more.