So he came to a decision. He would promote the lad within the firm and get to know him. And then when he felt the time was right he would drop the bombshell and show him Chloe’s letter.

After that he would groom Terry to be his successor. The idea pleased and excited him, and suddenly he had a purpose in life other than making money.

But then something happened that changed everything and that was why he confided in Terry that night in the club.

He gave him the letter from his mother and told him that he wanted him to eventually take charge of the firm. And he told him why his plan had been brought forward.

Naturally the lad reacted as though he’d received a jolt of electricity. But Slack had assured him that he had what it took and that it was meant to be.

‘So go home and think about it, son,’ he’d said. ‘Your mother asked me to look out for you and that’s exactly what I plan to do. You and my grandchild will have a bright and prosperous future. And you’ll want for nothing.’

They were the last words he said to Terry. Hours later the lad was dead.

Rosa Lopez was not what he was expecting. The eyes of everyone in the saloon bar were drawn towards her as she came in ahead of Danny who held the door open for her.

Slack felt the urge to whistle as she walked towards where he was sitting in an alcove next to the window.

She was disarmingly attractive, with thick, lustrous black hair and naturally olive skin. Her face was smooth and narrow, and she moved with the sinewy grace of a catwalk model.

She had on a smart leather jacket with a fleece lining that looked brand new and probably was. It was open at the front and underneath she was wearing torn jeans and a tight brown sweater.

She was slim but endowed in all the right places, and it struck him that she was so unlike any of the contract killers he had ever come across.

Rosa Lopez was stunning, and he reckoned she probably stood out even among the beautiful sicarias in Latin America. He found it strange that someone so young and beautiful could be a sadistic killer. He wondered if she had been born a psychopath or whether events in her life had turned her into one.

As she approached, he held out his hand and introduced himself. She smiled and it lit up her face, but there was something unconvincing about it.

‘Welcome to London,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Not too much I hope,’ she replied.

She spoke perfect English with only the faintest trace of an accent.

‘Please take a seat,’ he said. ‘Danny will get the drinks in.’