At ten o’clock in the evening, Charlie gave in to his jittery feelings. He roused Beezer, who could sleep on a damned clothesline, the idiot, and was already snoring away peacefully while Charlie’s nerves were jangling at every slight sound he heard. Together they legged it out of the village and to a hotel up the road that refused locals entry. Then Charlie felt safe. He started chatting to the staff in the hotel about his contact, and the word was that Saddam was a bad lot and had probably been planning to rob Charlie and his companion and murder them in the night, so keeping both Charlie’s money and peddling the hashish on to the next unwary traveller.

‘Oh really?’ said Charlie, fuming.

At four next morning, Charlie and Beezer returned to Saddam’s place and grabbed the thieving bastard. He cried and pleaded his innocence as Charlie told him all he’d heard.

‘No! I swear it’s not true!’

‘Fucking liar.’

Together Charlie and Beezer dragged him out from the village, into the dunes. Beezer knocked Saddam down and then Charlie fell on him and grabbed his throat. Inch by inch, the light vanished from Saddam’s eyes as Charlie throttled him. Finally, he was still.

Charlie stood up, still quivering with fury.

‘Cunt!’ he swore and kicked the corpse.

They hid the body away, burying it deep in the sands. At nine o’clock that same morning, Charlie contacted one of the tribal elders Saddam had introduced him to, and he got his deal made. He paid up, and a taster pack of two hundred and fifty kilogrammes of prime kif was on its way back to England. Feeling glad to be still in one piece, Charlie gave Beezer the nod and they both headed home.

27

Nula was getting used to Charlie jetting off all over the world. She actually rather enjoyed his absence, it was peaceful. Charlie was like a whirlwind around the house; so noisy, so full of himself. While he was out in Morocco, Terry was in the big house with her, having stayed overnight at Charlie’s request.

She came down to breakfast while the au pair – of course she had an au pair – saw to baby Milly, and there he was in white shirt and well-worn jeans, his sleeves rolled up to the elbow showing his muscular forearms fuzzed so fetchingly with blond hair.

‘Morning, Nula,’ he said. ‘You sleep well?’