Slack pulled another face to show that he was still in pain. Then he said, ‘What’s really sickening is that Detective Marsden and all his colleagues know that I’m not a well man. I have pancreatic cancer and I’ve been given only a few months to live.’

He wanted to smile because he knew that the revelation would pile further pressure and embarrassment on the Met, and hopefully win him some public support.

He didn’t answer any more questions after that and signalled for Danny to escort him to the car.

Physically he felt like shit, and he knew that he should have probably let them keep him in. But he hated hospitals almost as much as he hated coppers. They made him feel weak and vulnerable and brought back painful memories of the two days and nights he spent at his wife’s bedside after she crashed her car. She never regained consciousness and died slowly, her body broken, her face badly disfigured.

‘You sure you’re up to going home, boss?’ Danny asked him.

He nodded as he shuffled towards the car.

‘I need a stiff drink and a cigar more than I need a bunch of nurses fussing over me,’ he said.

He sat by himself on the back seat of Danny’s car. Danny had come straight to the hospital after Slack had got them to phone him as his next of kin.

‘I still can’t get my head around it,’ Danny said as he gunned the engine. ‘I was convinced you’d been grabbed by one of the other outfits. It never even entered my head that it might be the Old Bill.’

‘Mine neither until Marsden walked in,’ Slack said. ‘But there’s an upside because the bastard has fucked himself good and proper. He’ll still be doing time long after I’m dead and buried.’

‘And what you said back there about the cancer won’t help his case any,’ Danny said.

Slack grinned. ‘That’s exactly why I decided to say it.’

‘I gathered that, boss. But the lads will be pissed off that you hadn’t already told them. And they’ll start to panic about what’s going to happen to the firm. I’m sure our phones will start ringing any minute.’

‘I get that,’ Slack said. ‘But it won’t matter now anyway. Time’s running out, Danny. A few days from now I’m checking out. I’ve done what I set out to do and it’s worked out well. You’d better get on your bike too.’

‘I’m planning to, boss. Just got a few things to sort.’

Danny reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a mobile phone, which he held up for Slack to take.