Years later Slack was given another reason to hate the Old Bill after he was hauled in for questioning for the third time in a month. His wife was furious. She’d decided to drive to Camberwell nick to give the detectives a piece of her mind. On the way she’d smashed head-on into another car while overtaking a bus.

Everyone said that Julie had herself to blame but that wasn’t how Slack saw it. If the coppers hadn’t taken him in that day then she would in all probability still be alive.

Over the years the bastards had blighted his life. Now, at last, it was payback time.

The apartment was filling up with cigar smoke so Slack decided to go out onto the balcony. But first he topped up the Scotch and slipped on a cardigan.

It was a cold but calm night, and a slice of moon peeked through the clouds, silent and pale.

The view he had of South London was spectacular, and it was the main reason he’d splashed out two million quid on the apartment. From here he could see much of the territory he controlled. But it meant far more to him than that.

It was where he’d grown up. Where his father was buried. Where Julie was cremated. Where his son was murdered and where his grandchild was denied the gift of life.

There was a time when he’d dreamt of moving away. He’d promised Julie that once he had enough dosh in the bank they’d retire to a place where they could live out their lives drinking cocktails and enjoying the sun.

But no matter how much wealth he accumulated it was never enough to entice him away from the business. And that was something he bitterly regretted.

After she died he went on to make enough money to buy a house in Kent, a villa in Spain and a luxurious apartment here at Canary Wharf.

But he had come to realise a long time ago that without someone to share them with they were just meaningless possessions.

He hardly ever stayed in Kent or went to Spain because being in those big properties served only to compound his loneliness.

That was why he stayed in London most of the time. He was able to keep busy and surround himself with people. Plus, he got to enjoy the view as often as he wanted.

Tonight the city seemed even brighter and noisier than usual. Lights were going up for Christmas all over the place and there was a constant wail of police sirens.

He looked over towards Battersea as he drew on his cigar and tried to imagine the chaotic scene outside the copper’s house. The street would be swarming with police, forensic suits, reporters, and members of the public.