‘All right. Come with me then,’ he said, and crossed quickly to the door, Angel following close behind him.

103

Max Carter was alone in the office at the Blue Parrot when he

got the call. The Parrot was one of his three clubs, the others were the Shalimar and the Palermo Lounge, and currently all three were being run as nightclubs with the Bay City Rollers, Barry White and David Cassidy featuring heavily on their sound systems.

For now, however, all was quiet. The cleaners were in, the sound system was off; tonight the six go-go dancers would be up on their podiums beside the underlit dance floor, shaking their fringed white bikinis as the strobes flickered and shimmered above them and the punters packed the floor to boogie.

Max was relishing the quiet, catching up on the books in the office. All was looking good. And then the phone on the desk started ringing. He hated fucking phones. He snatched it up.

‘Yeah?’ he said.

‘Max. I got to talk to you.’

Max recognized Lenny’s voice. ‘About what?’

‘It’s private,’ said Lenny, using the word for bad trouble.

‘Go on.’

‘A stranger.’ This was the word for ‘copper’.

Christ alive.

‘Address?’ asked Max, and Lenny gave it.

‘Go to the usual place. All right?’ Max hung up and quickly locked the accounts in the safe then went to the office door.

Outside, Jackie Tulliver, an ugly little squit of a man with sharp eyes and even sharper ears, was sitting at one of the tables playing snap with Steve, who was a brick-built shit house in a suit, topped off with dark hair and mud-coloured eyes.

‘Get the gear. Let’s go,’ said Max, and they stood up.

104

Later, Angel sat in the back of a cab with Lenny. Neither of them spoke. Angel stared out at London lit up by night, and it was beautiful but she saw nothing as the car made its way through the traffic, across Tower Bridge. St Paul’s was lit up, a beacon of hope in the darkness. The car slipped on, through the night-time traffic, and then she noticed the Holland Park sign flash by in the headlights. The car slowed and came to a halt.

I’ve killed a man kept shooting through her brain, making her whole body tremble.

Angel got out unsteadily and stood there on the pavement. They were outside a big house, all in darkness. Lenny paid the taxi driver then came to her side as he drove away.

‘There’s six steps up,’ said Lenny, taking her arm and guiding her up them because there was no porch light on. In the pale wash cast by a nearby street light, Angel could see the dark glimmer of a highly polished double-door in front of her.

Lenny lifted the knocker and let it fall, just once. Immediately, the door swung open. Still holding on tight to Angel’s arm because he could feel her shaking even now and thought she might pass out at any second, Lenny stepped inside, taking her with him. The door closed behind them. Then the lights came on, blinding them.