The function room was small and dimly lit. This was no modern casino with custom-built tables and uniformed staff. This was hardcore and grimy. And there wasn’t a woman in the place. There were several wannabe Conor McGregors, guys with all the attitude and none of the talent. Despite the poor lighting, Burke was easy to spot. He was the only one with a tan and a full set of teeth.

Conor sidled over. ‘How’s tricks, Warren?’

Burke turned, giving Conor the sort of petulant stare that most people grew out of in their teens. ‘I don’t know about you, lads,’ he said, ‘but I’m getting a shocking smell of bacon around here.’

‘What has you back in Dublin?’

‘I’m entitled to spend my Friday afternoons however I want, yeah?’

‘I didn’t say you weren’t, only you don’t need to get on a plane to play a few hands of cards.’

‘What do you want?’

‘There’s no law against saying hello.’

‘Do you make a point of harassing businessmen?’

‘Just the ones who make their money from convincing kids to stick a needle in their arm. I saw a couple of your clients on my way in. Night of the Living Dead, I call them.’

The couple, who might have been anywhere between twenty and forty, had been rolling on the ground. They hadn’t cared, or maybe hadn’t noticed, that they’d attracted a crowd. Several onlookers had taken out their phones and were shooting videos for the entertainment of their Facebook friends. Roll up, roll up. Your chance to see the fantastically awful addicts. The two on the ground, with their scab-infested faces and filthy clothes, were repulsive, their audience even more so. ‘Ah, come on, folks,’ Conor had said to the crowd, ‘have some decency.’ To begin with, they were impassive. Only when he brought out his ID card, did they begin to scatter. He saw a uniformed guard with the wholesome look of a fellow who’d gone straight from Mammy and Daddy’s house to the training college and onto the streets of the capital. He gestured towards the spaced-out couple. ‘Sort that pair out, would you? They should be locked up for their own safety.’ The young guard’s mouth flapped open, but Conor was already on the move.

Now, as he watched Warren Burke pick up his cards, he noticed something twitchy about him. Perhaps he, too, was a user. Conor would have to find out. Extra information about the Burkes was always welcome.

‘I’ve noticed a fair share of rough-looking kids myself,’ said Warren. ‘The poverty in this city is shocking. Maybe the new government will sort it out. What do you think, boys?’ He winked at his playing partners.

They were getting annoyed. Good. ‘I wouldn’t worry about Warren, lads,’ said Conor. ‘His hand is terrible.’