As I left the funeral, I near said festivities and maybe that was more accurate. Doc grabbed my arm, ‘You’re leggin’ it already.’

‘Yeah, I’m funned out.’

‘Oh, that’s rich Cooper.’

‘Was there something?’

‘Hardware. We’re gonna need some shooters right – the guy fell thru but I got another address. Here, you go arm us.’

‘But this is in Islington.’

‘What, you think they only sell guns in Kilburn?’

‘Bad fuck to this – I dunno this guy.’

‘He’s expecting you.’

‘Wonderful, thing is what’s he expecting from me?’

‘Cash, lotsa cash.’

‘How novel.’

But Doc had already turned away. Father Cleary was calling. I wanted to go to Islington about as much as I’d want an evening with Quinn. Traffic was light and I got over there in jig time. The day’s repo was the Renault Espace Turbo Diesel. A sort of double retake as the company was recalling them, to install a fuse in the engine’s diesel pre-heating system. Heat sometimes damaged the wiring harness. What I did was be careful. Enough heat going down already. Couldn’t find the house for ages. Saw a size nine and toyed with asking, ‘Know where the gun dealer hangs his shingle?’

Then bingo! Got outa the door and locked it by remote from the pavement. It gives that ‘ping’ so beloved by yuppies everywhere. Shit, all I needed was the cellular and I’d be the total asshole. Rang the doorbell – the door opened a crack.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you Joseph?’

‘Who wants to know?’

‘Look, I feel ridiculous saying this but Doc sent me. He forgot to give me a password, his secret service training ain’t what it used to be.’