It was his mole in the Met and he felt a burst of irritation.

‘Do you know what fucking time it is?’ he ranted.

‘Just listen to me, Roy. They’re on their way to arrest you. They know everything.’

Slack felt his heart plunge in his chest.

‘What do you mean by everything?’

‘They’ve taken Danny Carver in and they know who you hired to carry out the killings. They raided her hotel room in Vauxhall and they found her bike and weapons in a garage next to a pub that you own.’

‘Has she been nabbed as well?’

‘No. They don’t know where she is.’

‘Well, that’s something at least.’

‘Look, Roy, I’m begging you to keep me out of it. I’ve done everything you asked me to. So please don’t drop me in it.’

‘Do you think I give a fuck about you?’ he raged. ‘You’re one of them. You’re a copper and you’re as fucking corrupt as they come. So I’m gonna make sure that it all comes out, including the fact that you got me to kill someone for you.’

‘Roy, please. Don’t. I can’t—’

He cut the connection. He wasn’t prepared to listen to any more pathetic drivel. There were more important things to concern him now. If they were coming for him then this was it. Time to bow out. He felt sorry for Danny and he was curious to know how the Old Bill had put it all together. How the fuck had they traced Rosa to the hotel in Vauxhall? And how had they found their way to the pub?

It was a bummer, but at the end of the day it didn’t really matter. He’d got his revenge on the Met and that had been his aim.

He decided to use his phone one last time and sent a brief message to Rosa.

The police are onto you. Good luck and thanks for everything. Sorry you won’t get the bonus I promised. Suggest you disappear.

He went out onto the balcony and hurled the phone into the Thames so that the police wouldn’t get their hands on it.

Next he hurried into the bedroom and put on his most expensive shirt and a pair of smart trousers. He then went into the kitchen and opened the safe hidden behind the tiles.

He took out the gun and two envelopes. He left his knuckleduster inside, along with a plastic folder with documents pertaining to all the properties he owned, some of which the cops knew nothing about.

Finally he returned to the living room and placed the gun and the envelopes on the coffee table.

Before sitting back in the armchair he picked up the framed photo of his late wife from on top of the drinks cabinet and gave her a kiss.

‘I’ll be with you soon, sweetheart,’ he said.