Shaking his head, he made his way to his car. He was meeting George at eight thirty. He looked at his watch. It was just after seven. Give him time to get a few drinks down him. He needed them.

George was ready. He checked himself over once more in the mirror and smiled.

Not bad. Not bad at all. He smoothed his scanty hair down with the palms of his hands and grinned. He was in the mood for an outing now. He was going on his holidays the day after tomorrow and the thought cheered him. Elaine was gone from his thoughts.

He imagined Edith’s face when he knocked on her door. He felt a little jiggle of excitement inside his chest. It was going to be a wonderful holiday.

He locked the house up carefully before leaving and drove out to the Lion Rampant. He arrived there just after seven thirty and walked into the deserted bar. Tony Jones was sitting tucked away in the corner. George walked to him and sat down opposite.

‘You’re early.’

‘So I am. Would you like another drink?’ Tony nodded, nonplussed at the gaiety in George’s voice.

‘I’ll have a large Scotch.’

George went up to the bar and got the drinks. When they were settled he smiled at Tony.

‘Got the passport?’

‘You got the money?’ Tony’s voice was hard and George pursed his lips.

‘It’s in the car.’

‘Well, go and get it then.’

‘Don’t be silly, the barman’s watching us like a hawk. People remember things, you know. He’ll remember seeing us exchanging envelopes. No, we do the business outside.’

Tony screwed up his eyes and sipped his drink. It made sense.

‘All right. I took the test. I tell you now it was difficult. They asked me lots of awkward questions . . .’

George was immediately alert.

‘I hope you didn’t muck it all up?’

Tony was aware of the underlying threat in his voice. ‘They’re due at my firm tomorrow. I don’t want any worries, Tony.’

He realised his mistake. He was trying to impress on George that he had earned his money and all he had done was make him nervous. And George nervous made Tony nervous.

‘Don’t worry, I did a great job, I swear it. They never guessed a thing, honest.’

George visibly relaxed and so did Tony.

He kept forgetting that George was a murderer. A dangerous man. If only he didn’t look so nondescript. All the murderers he had ever read about or known - and he had known a few in his time - had looked a few sandwiches short of a picnic. But this bloke here, he looked like a flasher. A weekend pervie. He looked like a lot of things - but not a murderer.

He didn’t look dangerous. But he was.

‘Drink up and we’ll get going. I have an appointment.’