The bouncers watched the red Ferrari leave. One of the men was slightly taller than the other. He shook his head as the car left and then continued with his conversation: ‘Yeah, it’s her birthday. She’s been going on about wanting some fairy castle.’ He pulled out his phone and showed his colleague a photograph of his five-year-old daughter. ‘They say it changes your life but you don’t believe them. And then one day your little girl wraps her hand around your finger and nothing’s the same.’ He smiled as he put his phone back into his pocket.

A silver Subaru turned the corner next to the nightclub. It circled back and a man in a suit leaned out of the passenger side. The shorter of the two bouncers clocked who he was just as the spray of bullets began. Revellers collapsed on top of him, their legs taking the hit. By the time he was able to stand, all he could see was blood. And his friend’s body in a heap on the pavement.

CHAPTER 9

A lone security man watched from his tower and bowed as Benyamin Khan did a last sweep around the grounds of the private residence, under the gaze of countless security cameras, to check everything was ready. Grandiose and imposing, the Victorian mansion was exactly the kind of place befitting the city’s kingpin, and the perfect setting for a wedding.

Built by a wealthy textile merchant, it had fallen into disrepair when Akbar Khan bought it. It was part of the city’s heritage, but to Benyamin it was just home. The extensive gardens bloomed all year long thanks to their two gardeners. They kept the varying green hues of the lush landscape visible from every window. From its hilltop, the house watched over the two aspects of the city, the white and the Asian, a divide not visible in the landscape but etched on the minds of the people who lived there. Pukhtun House was the one place where the two met as equals to discuss matters of importance.