There were just some things you did not do, and these were some of them. You could break a man’s arm or a leg for the payment of an overdue debt, but this was right and fair. When the man borrowed the money he knew what the penalty for not paying would be, and he generally took his punishment like a man. That was how Kelly had always lived his life. How he had survived in life. His first business had been founded on a two thousand pound loan from one of the biggest villains ever to walk the earth. Kelly had paid back the loan and the interest with it. He had showed the man the respect due to him, and now, all these years later, the man was a trusted friend.

Kelly was the old-style villain and proud of it. He had no time for the youngsters who went steaming through the trains or who took it into their heads to go and run a stolen Range Rover through an electrical shop. Ram Raiding they called it. That was a mug’s game. He blamed society for these people. He did not put himself on a par with them. He saw himself and his colleagues as businessmen. Men who did a job that had to be done. Like the job they had done tonight.

When he found the Grantley Ripper, and he would find him, he was sure of that, he would pay back his daughter’s debt one hundredfold. He would exact his payment painfully and with the minimum of fuss. In Kelly’s mind it was expected of him. If you didn’t look out for your own then who would?

He shook his head at what the world was coming to.

Inside Kelly’s car, Owen sat as still as death. Relieved to be out of the flat, but still not sure if he was out of danger. Now the relief had worn off he was wondering if he had walked into more trouble.

‘We’re going to take you home, son, to your mum. But first we’ve got to drop the little fellow off. All right?’

Owen nodded warily.

‘Give me the phone, Tim.’

Kelly dialled a number and the deep voice of a Chief Inspector friend of his came on the line. He outlined the situation in as few words as possible, then smiled and switched the phone off.

‘We’re taking him to Charing Cross Hospital, they’ll be expecting him. Come on then. Let’s get our arses in gear.’

He smiled at Owen.

‘When was the last time you two had a bath? You smell like a couple of paraffin lamps.’

‘They look like a pair of tramps and all, guv.’

This from Dicky, who was feeling happier now they were taking the boy somewhere.