Rifling through the paperwork, she found the small leatherbound ledger. ‘There you are, my little beauty,’ said Zara, as she kissed the cover, with a huge smile on her face. After carefully placing everything back inside the box, she returned the rug to how it was. She could have left her father’s office exactly how she wanted it, but years of mentoring from her teacher and father made her put everything back in its original place. Shuddering, she thought of the times her brother must have been secretly listening by the door. But he couldn’t hurt her now: he was in prison, on remand, along with the Segals.

Izzy had told her about the book and the numbers inside. ‘The man called the Machine is someone who you must respect and only ever call if you have no other choice. Mike Regan is the man you want by your side, Zara, but one day, when I’m gone, and if you need more than the Regans, then you call the Machine. He’s a lone wolf and invaluable.’

Outside, the traffic on the main road was almost at a standstill, and Zara felt anxious. The thought of that man struggling for air swirled around in her head and raised her heartbeat. She took a few deep breaths before she made her next move. There, from a sideroad, pulling away from the kerb, a taxi was approaching. Suddenly his ‘For Hire’ sign came on, so she frantically waved him down. He wound down his window. ‘Hop in, love!’

Relieved she didn’t have to stand on the main road feeling exposed, she hurried over to the vehicle and got in. ‘Head towards Kent, please. I’ll direct you from there.’

She got herself settled and contemplated her next move. She opened the page of the notebook and stared at the phone number pencilled in. What if he’d retired? He was obviously much older. And what if he’d changed his number?

The streets were now crawling with police. Zara had no idea that she was the person of interest. The taxi driver pulled his partition screen ajar, leaned back, and said, ‘I just heard that two gang members, part of that nasty Hadlow gang, were beaten up. One of them was killed.’

Zara was still staring at the notebook. Distractedly, she looked over to the driver, slightly flustered. ‘Er. . . sorry, what did you say?’

‘The police are everywhere, looking for a woman who’s apparently killed that Lennon bloke. He won’t be missed. He was a nasty bastard, part of a gang. I, for one, am glad. That gang business is getting out of hand . . . Anyway, sorry, love. You probably ain’t from around these parts, eh?’

Zara’s ears pricked up. ‘Well, yes and no. My father had a few businesses around here. That jeweller’s back there was one. So, what’s this gang all about, then?’