‘This place will need to be gutted, Daniel. There’s enough mess here to keep the old London going on a Saturday night. Everything, from the carpets to the desks, will have to go.’

Daniel nodded. ‘Sorted. It’s being gutted tomorrow. I’ve got Delroy’s mate, Phillip Harrison, on it. He has an industrial cleaning outfit, and Delroy reckons he’s a fucking whiz with blood. Does crime-scene cleaning, by all accounts – earns a fortune, and it’s legit. Marvellous really, ain’t it, how you can earn a fucking crust these days?’

Peter had heard about the lad and, like his brother, he was amazed at how people could find a niche in such a market, but that was a sign of the times, he supposed. Murder made a lot of money, for a lot of people.

He could hear the rain hammering on the roof; it sounded like a machine gun. He glanced outside. He thought he saw someone outside the main door; it was a few seconds before his brain registered that it was his young niece, looking for all the world like a drowned rat, her face blurred by the heavy rain that was lashing against the Portakabin. At first he had thought it was the lights outside playing tricks on him, until he saw her move. Then he realised that it was really her, that she had been watching everything as it transpired.

She was staring into his eyes now, and he saw that she did not seem fazed, she was looking at him through the pouring rain as though her being there was the most natural thing in the world. Turning from him abruptly, suddenly she was gone, making her way back hurriedly towards the small office.

Peter Bailey watched her as she ran, his mind racing with the implications of how much she had actually witnessed. He was so shocked that he hesitated for long moments, before turning to his younger brother and bellowing angrily, ‘What in the name of holy fuck is our Tania doing out here?’

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Five

Terrence Allen was surprised as well as appalled at how scared he was. Until now, he had believed he was incapable of feeling this much terror; he had perceived himself to be a man of substance, a man of character. He was now aware that he had been completely wrong about that and everything else; he wished desperately that he had never ignored the unwritten law which said you didn’t fuck over those who were stronger than you. He had made a fatal mistake believing he was the cleverest of them all.