‘Your shift, mate, is over. Me and you are gonna take a walk outside, and you ain’t gonna cause a scene, make a fuss, or even twitch, yeah? You’re gonna walk in front of me through the exit door and then we’re gonna talk.’

‘Er . . . are you the police?’

Willie let out his high-pitched demonic giggle that made the attendant jump.

‘No, we ain’t the Filth, but, more to the point, we can be your worst nightmare if you so much as backchat. Got it?’

The attendant’s eyes were now on stalks, and he felt his stomach churn. The knife tucked down his back pocket wouldn’t be a match for these great monsters.

Willie held the door open as the attendant walked through. Anyone watching would have thought the skinny man dressed in his brown overalls was off to the electric chair as a dead man walking. Mike followed and was joined by Lou and Staffie.

Once they were outside, the attendant turned, his face now a sickly grey colour. ‘What’s going on?’ he mumbled. His tongue had stuck to the roof of his mouth.

‘Who’s your lookout?’ demanded Staffie.

Shaking his head, the attendant replied, ‘No one. I mean, look, I just sell a few grams of cocaine to make my wages up, that’s all.’

Unexpectedly, Staffie gripped him around the throat. ‘I said, who’s the fucking lookout?’

While Lou and Willie shot off to cover the other two exits to look for anyone who might try to escape, Mike and Staffie stayed with the attendant.

‘I don’t take too kindly to liars, so if we find your lookout, trust me, you’ll wish you’d told the fucking truth.’

The attendant was now expecting a good hiding; he’d spotted Leon, and yet Leon hadn’t seen him being marched out of the pub. He wasn’t sure who he was more afraid of – Leon, or the guy in front of him.

Deciding to remain quiet, the attendant looked at the pavement, hoping they’d just take the remainder of the drugs and leave him alone.

A couple of young women almost fell out of the door laughing and chatting, which gave the attendant hope that the men weren’t going to give him a good hiding in front of other people. However, he didn’t know Mike or Staffie at all.

Staffie grabbed him by the collar and marched him down the small dark walkway to the rear of the pub, out of view of the punters.

‘Aw, come on. Please, you can have the gear and the money.’

Mike’s deep voice had the attendant silenced.