‘Yeah?’ Charlie was grinning. Beezer was always one for the big idea. Flogging one thing or another that would net them a fortune, according to him. Sadly, it never happened that way. You had to graft in this world. Put in the hours. Rob the warehouses and the banks and the racecourses, take over the nightclubs, do the loan-sharking – like Charlie had been doing over the past few years – and you had to do it carefully.

‘When I was in stir . . .’ said Beezer, glancing around as the barmaid Vera passed by with a tray of glasses. He fell silent. Then Vera was gone, back behind the bar, and he gestured for them to lean in.

‘Blimey, what is it, mate? You joined the secret service?’ laughed Terry.

‘There’s a gold rush on,’ said Beezer, looking wild-eyed at Charlie.

‘What the fuck?’ Charlie blew out cigarette smoke, watching Beezer curiously.

‘I shared a cell with a bloke. Finnan Marks.’

‘I know Finnan,’ said Charlie. ‘He’s done some jobs. Big bloke, yeah? Into all the body-building malarkey like Terry here. He got caught, the silly fucker.’

‘Well he won’t be doing bank jobs no more,’ said Beezer.

‘What, he’s retiring?’

Beezer shook his head.

‘Nah, listen, Charlie, this is serious. I was in the cell with Finnan one day, there we was, just shooting the breeze, talking about this and that, the door wide open and people passing by. Finnan had a gallery of pics on his wall. It was an artists’ paradise in there. Big-titted women and motorbikes and sports cars. We were saying which car we liked best, and Finnan slapped a hand on this red job hanging on the wall and said that this was his dream car, the car he was going to own one day. It was a Ferrari 250 GT Spyder California. Then this weedy little bastard – wet behind the ears, he looked – he stops outside the door and looks in and says, “I’ve got one of those.”’

‘Go on,’ said Charlie, beckoning Vera to bring another round over.

‘Well, Finnan says to him, fuck off, what you talking about? The bloke was smiling at Finnan and, mate, I was fearful for the kid. Finnan’s like that. You look at him the wrong way, he’ll take your head off, and he thought this student type was taking the piss.’

They all nodded. Everyone knew this about Finnan.

‘But the kid said he’d been bringing weed in on a big scale from abroad and was graduating to coke soon as he got back outside. He told us all about it. I’m telling you – that boy had a lifestyle like a film star. I’m not fucking around here.’

‘Yeah, really? What about Customs?’ asked Charlie.