The car was nearby and arrived within minutes. Milton got inside and looked in the mirrors as the driver pulled away; the lights of a car that had been waiting outside the club had flicked on, and now it had pulled out and was trailing along behind them.

Milton took out his phone and called Hicks.

“You saw it?”

“The Audi A5? Two guys inside.”

“Thanks,” Milton said. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

He ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket. He wasn’t remotely surprised to have his suspicions confirmed. He had expected more attention this time and, on balance, concluded that it was a good sign. López wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of checking him out unless he was entertaining the idea of doing more business with him.

On the other hand, there was an alternative explanation: López knew about his involvement in putting Jackson out of commission and had invited him to the club so that he could flush him out. On that reading, the goons in the car had been told to follow him so that they could extract the truth.

There was no way of knowing, save to hold his nerve and wait.

IV. Friday

Part IV

Friday

38

Milton allowed himself the luxury of a lie-in and awoke at seven the following morning. He got up, showered and then went to his window and looked down onto the street far below. The Audi that had followed him from the club was still parked on the side of the road.

Chase and Hicks were both up, drinking coffee.

Hicks raised his mug as Milton closed his door. “Want one?”

“Please.”

“Morning,” Chase said as Milton sat down.

“When did you get in?”

“Early this morning.”

“All okay?”

He nodded. “All fine. The police wanted to speak to me again yesterday evening, but that’s done now. I told them what happened, and they told me that I might need to come back for the trial, or maybe I could give evidence remotely. I said I was happy to help however I could. They said I was good to go.”

“Well done,” Milton said. “You did good.”

Hicks poured out a mug of coffee and brought it over.

“You see outside?”

“I did,” Hicks said. “You think they’ve been there all night.”

“Looks like it. You get anything?”

“I got their registration. Ziggy looked it up.”

“The guy who owns it is Dutch,” Ziggy said, “name of Vincent de Jong. He’s got form for assault. Nice guy.”

“They’ll be trying to find out which apartment I’m in,” Milton said.

“That’s not a problem, though?” Chase asked.

Ziggy shook his head. “The transaction’s in the name of John Smith. Everything looks like we want it to look. They won’t see anything suspicious.”

“What’s next?”