Bailey realised that the crooner was singing the song ‘He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother’ and wondered if there was any special significance to that particular track, given the nature of the deceased.

‘I prefer the Hollies version myself,’ said Bailey, sizing up Wendy as a potential source of information. Working as a police officer, Bailey had learned how to read people in a fraction of a second and she already found herself warming to Wendy’s refreshing lack of deference towards the criminals who surrounded her. ‘So, what do you do?’ asked Bailey, not really expecting her to have any kind of occupation whatsoever.

‘I run a beauty salon,’ Wendy replied. ‘On Basildon high street. They don’t let me get involved in any of their business.’

‘That’s because your gob’s too big,’ said a rough, gravelly voice behind them.

They both turned around to see Rick standing there, looming over them. In his black suit, he looked more menacing than ever.

Wendy emitted a frustrated sigh. ‘A little respect wouldn’t go amiss now and then.’

Bailey detected a very faint twinkle in Rick’s eye, which suggested there was a small measure of affection in his criticism of his wife.

He twitched one eyebrow and jerked his head slightly to indicate that Wendy should leave them both to talk confidentially.

Wendy rolled her eyes, pushed her sunglasses back up her nose, gave Bailey a final brittle smile and then drifted away into the crowd.

Bailey duly offered Rick her condolences, which he accepted with a shrug and a nod, seemingly preoccupied with other things. He looked around to check that no one was within immediate earshot, then leaned in, settling on her with his soulless black eyes.

‘The deal is on,’ he said.

‘That’s brilliant news,’ fawned Bailey, displaying what she hoped was the requisite level of gratitude. ‘It’s really great to be doing business with you.’

She recalled how Rick preferred to communicate face-to-face and realised now that the primary reason she’d been invited today was so he could convey this simple message to her. But she also felt that her presence here represented more than just that; a trust had been established which brought her one step deeper into their circle and, in a strange kind of way, she felt privileged to be here.

‘So when can we get started?’ she asked eagerly, keen to progress the operation to the next stage.

He eyed her silently for a few moments.

‘I’ll confirm the date of the transaction with you in due course.’

He scrutinised her reaction. She must have looked a bit dismayed, for a thought then seemed to occur to him.

‘In the meantime,’ he said, ‘if your contacts are interested in a sample, I’ve got a few bits and pieces lying around. I could let you have it at a discount rate. Eight hundred quid, say?’

She realised he was trying to keep her sweet, and wondered if there was some delay or problem with moving things forward. Still, a sample would be a great way to confirm exactly what kind of merchandise she was obtaining. For eight hundred pounds, she guessed he was talking about a pistol rather than an assault rifle.