Frankie perched on a wall in the park, kicking his legs against the cold bricks. He was scranning a piece of chicken and looked around as he filled his face. It was quiet tonight, not a lot happening. Frankie paused mid-bite as he suddenly heard rustling, branches crunching behind him. He turned to look. Nothing. He waited a few more seconds then carried on eating his food.

He was getting paranoid lately; smoking weed was seriously affecting his mental health. Dickhead, he thought to himself, he should have stuck to selling the stuff, not sampling the goods. As he shook his head a large hand reached over and gripped him from behind.

‘Francis Owen, I’m arresting you for supplying class A drugs, you don’t have to say anything but anything you do say may be recorded and used in evidence against you.’

Frankie spat a mouthful of food at the copper as the cuffs were slammed around his wrists. They were tight, the cold metal cutting into his skin.

He was slammed to the floor, the side of his head pushed into the wet grass, then dragged back up onto his feet and marched to an unmarked car not far from where they stood. Once he was in the back the officer climbed in and sat next to him. A plain clothes officer. Frankie swallowed, this was not what he needed in his life. But he was caught, bang to rights.

The copper studied Frankie. ‘I’m going to be straight with you. How long I keep you here will depend on you and what you tell me. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Let’s see how sensible you are.’

Frankie was white, trembling. He knew the minute he was searched he’d be done for possession and the rest of it. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There was no hiding it. He had large amounts of cash on him and bags of weed ready to sell. This would be pure time in the big house, two or three years at least. He was old enough to go down properly – he couldn’t get away with young offenders or a slap on the wrist.

The officer nodded his head slowly. ‘We’ve been watching you for a long time, Frankie. But we’re not interested in you. We want the big man, the one you deal for. I’ve seen you meet him a few times and I know who he is. Question is, are you willing to help us send this prick down? Or am I taking you down to the nick and throwing the book at you? It’s your call. Tell me what I need to know, and you’ll be out of here and we can forget anything has ever happened.’