‘Maybe it’s time we called this off, boss,’ he suggested, flopping on one of a pair of uncomfortable single beds. They were in a country pub that offered rooms, set by the side of a fast A road; at rush hour, the noise of the traffic zipping through was deafening, and in the evening the noise from the bar below their feet was annoying. Neither of them, used to five-star establishments and the best of everything, was very happy with this arrangement. Personally, Ludo thought that if he saw another field or another stretch of woodland then he was going to throw up or scream – or both.

‘You keep looking,’ said Harlan. ‘Belle’s smart. Smarter than you two tosspots. We call it off when I say so and not before.’

‘Sure, sure.’ Ludo rolled his eyes at Nipper, who was just emerging post-shower in a coarse white towelling robe. ‘Only the natives are getting damned restless, you see what I’m sayin’.’

Nipper went over to his jacket, which was hanging over the back of a chair. Nipper always left doors open, drawers too. He left the minibar ajar – not that there was a minibar in this low-class set-up – so that everything inside it got warm and nasty. Nipper’s clothes were always on the floor or draped over furniture. It infuriated Ludo, who was neat and shiny as a dollar, at all times. Usually, all he ever did was glimpse Nipper’s domestic habits. But for now, with only the one room available and having to share with the bastard, he was confronted with it up close and personal. Which he didn’t like. If Nipper snored, that would be the icing on the cake for Ludo. He would kill that fucker in his sleep.

‘Fuck the natives and fuck you too, Ludo,’ said Harlan. ‘What I say goes. You stay there and you keep looking and you stick to the cover story. All right?’

‘Yeah, boss,’ said Ludo, watching Nipper get out his gun and check it over.

Nuthin’ worth shootin’ around here but pheasants, he thought. And peasants.

‘You greased a few palms, like I told you?’ asked Harlan.

‘Yeah man, we done a thorough job. Local pubs, post offices, oil delivery men, shit wagons – you know they don’t have mains drainage out here in the backside of nowhere, boss? I tell you, it’s downright uncivilized – and we did the postmen. Anything and anyone we could think of, believe me, we’ve told ’em it’ll be worth their while to reunite us with Nipper’s long-lost sister. They got an incentive.’

‘Good. Because I want her finished. We started this and we are going to bring it to the proper conclusion, you understand me? I want this tidy, and I know that tidiness is your middle name, you like things wrapped up neat, ain’t that so, Ludo?’