He put two sachets of sugar into his black tea and got a couple of mouthfuls down him. Then he said, ‘Natasha, she’s called.’

Whinger went, ‘You bastard! How much did she take you for?’

‘Nothing.’

‘What? Come on.’

‘Honest. She wants help.’

‘I should think she bloody well does after you’ve been through her a few times.’

‘It’s not that. It’s her sister.’

Whinger and I looked at each other. Then Rick began to explain.

Natasha’s home was in Rostov-on-Don, a thousand miles south of Moscow, he said. She was eighteen, a student, and supposed to be starting her autumn term at university. But like hundreds of other provincial girls she’d done a runner and come to the capital to earn some money and make a better life for herself. And along with all the rest, she’d fallen into the clutches of the Mafia.

‘The point is, she’s shit-scared,’ Rick went on. ‘They all are. They have to hand over half their earnings. If they don’t pay, they’re liable to have their faces carved up.’

‘Is that what’s happened to the sister?’

‘Not yet. But she’s deep in it. Irina, she’s called. She went to New York on the job, with a friend, but both of them got caught up in a money-laundering racket run by the Mafia. Apparently it’s got a hold on the States like a tick in a dog’s arse.’

‘So what was this slag doing?’ Whinger asked.

‘Something in a restaurant. There’s drug money pouring through: she has to bank it and make out phoney bills for meals that nobody’s eaten. Last week the friend got murdered, and now Irina thinks she’s for it too.’

‘And what is the great, all-shagging, all-conquering hero supposed to do about it?’ Whinger shot a steely look across the table.

Rick scrubbed his eyes. ‘Natasha wants me to rescue her sister.’

‘Fucking roll on!’ Whinger cried in alarm, so loud that a Japanese couple at the next table jumped in their seats. ‘Who does she think you are?’

‘Part of a film company. Don’t worry – I stuck to the cover. It’s just that, because I’m a Brit and have dollars, she thinks I can whip across to America, sort the Mafia and bring her little sister safely home.’

‘What did you tell her?’ I pushed back my chair. ‘How did you get rid of her?’

‘I haven’t yet. She’s still there.’

‘Where?’

‘In the bed.’

‘Bloody hell! For Christ’s sake, Rick – she’s nothing but a whore. Otherwise she wouldn’t be in a dump like this.’

‘No, no,’ he protested. ‘She’s a really nice kid.’

‘What did she do to you?’ Whinger asked sarcastically. ‘She emptied your head as well as your balls.’