Nipper had dropped Harlan back at the house and, as instructed, gone back to the zoo to make sure the job was done. He was freaked out by the caimans, truth to tell. And the fucking snakes, he hated them. But orders were orders, so he took the buggy back down beyond the orchard, passing the lake where Charlie and Nula had carked it, and pulled up at the front of the zoo.

Bracing himself, he went in, passing through the heavy main door and through the thick plastic one. Christ, he hated it in here. So clammy. Everywhere was dripping wet and hot as a furnace. Sweat broke out on his skin the instant he was inside. Quickly, he flicked on the lights. You didn’t know when one of those damned things could be lying up on this side of the pond and then you’d be toast before you could even look round. They could move fast.

He thought of Belle in there, thrashing around, getting eaten bit by bit. Poor cow. But then, she’d been bloody stupid, facing up to Harlan like that. Fucking suicide, that was. Gingerly, he stepped forward. The big one – George – was lying out on the far side bank, reptilian eyes blankly staring. Fucking thing. The other two were out of sight somewhere. In the water, probably hoovering up what was left of her.

Shit, what a way to go.

And all because she wouldn’t play ball with Harlan fucking Stone? Because of what she knew about the drugs business, the dead baby and all that shit? Stupid cow. Fuck that. Nipper thought that he would have done the deed with Harlan himself, bent over and taken it straight up the arse if he had to, rather than risk being put in there with the caimans.

He heaved a sigh. Whatever. She was gone.

He turned away, thinking job done.

And then he stopped, staring down at bloody footprints.

Woman-sized.

Leading out, away from the pond.

Leading to the door.

‘You what?’ said Harlan.

He was in the sitting room of what had once been Charlie Stone’s house and was now his. He was thinking, actually, that there would be a lot of changes made now that he was finally in charge. All this crappy decor would be going soon. And things would be run differently. Along smarter lines. Harder lines. There would be no room for sentiment, not any more. He was beginning to feel quite excited about it all – and Nipper’s interruption was annoying. Nipper was standing there and telling him . . .

‘You what?’ he said, louder this time.

Nipper swallowed, feeling nervous. Harlan didn’t like things being fucked up, and this was fucked up big style.