‘Take it out,’ he urged. It was the first time she’d seen him this animated. She could tell he was getting a buzz out of it.

She hefted the gun in her hand, surprised at just how much it weighed. It was black and boxy looking.

‘It’s a K100 semi-automatic,’ he said. ‘Nine-millimetre. Made in Slovakia. There’s some ammunition in case you want to test it. A full clip of fifteen rounds.’

Looking inside the bag, she noticed that, alongside the bullets, there was a chunky black metal cylinder.

‘That’s the silencer,’ said Rick. ‘I’ll throw that in for free. You’ll notice the gun’s got a threaded barrel so you can screw it on.’

He turned his fingers into a gun shape, pointed them at Bailey and made a soft ‘poufft’ sound.

‘Makes it nice and quiet,’ he explained. ‘Go on. Screw it on.’

Bailey clumsily screwed the silencer onto the end of the gun, which made the whole thing even heavier and bulkier. She realised that with the silencer, it constituted the ideal underworld assassination tool – quiet and deadly.

With that unpleasant thought on her mind, not particularly wanting to hold the weapon any longer, she removed the silencer and put both that and the gun back in the bag. She took the bundle of cash out of her jacket pocket and handed it to him. Rick pocketed it without counting it, barely giving it a glance. He knew she wouldn’t rip him off at this stage as that would be counterproductive, given the large profits to be gained in the subsequent transaction. Anyhow, eight hundred pounds was a piddling amount to someone with his wealth, but she knew he had to ask for it out of a matter of principle. He’d probably spend that much alone on a bottle of champagne in a posh restaurant.

‘So when exactly are we going to make the exchange?’ she asked.

Rick eyed her mutely with a circumspect expression.

‘I’ll let you know the date all in good time,’ he said, and turned and slammed shut the boot of the Range Rover.

She realised he wasn’t going to elaborate any further than that. Starting to understand how he operated, she could see that he liked to be in absolute control of all information at every step of the process, never giving away any more than he had to at any time.

‘I don’t know about you,’ he said, fixing her with his dead shark eyes. ‘But I’m ravenous.’

25

They went for lunch in a country club a few miles down the road. Situated inside a Georgian stately home set in beautifully landscaped grounds, it couldn’t have felt more exclusive. The place was built in a neoclassical style with tall pillars on the outside, while the interior had ornate plasterwork ceilings and antique hunting prints decorating the walls.

Bailey found herself sitting between Rick, on her left, and Wendy, on her right, while Nancy was sitting at another table chatting to Stephen and others. Smartly dressed waiters with impeccable manners glided between the tables serving them fine wine and exquisitely prepared food. The atmosphere was warm and pleasant, noisy with the sound of conversation and laughter.