‘He left something for me to post, in a coat at my place. I didn’t do it. After he was dead I didn’t want to look.’

‘Could be a start,’ I said. ‘Let’s go. How did you get here?’

‘A taxi.’

‘We’ll go in my car then.’ We went down the stairs and out onto the street. My car was parked around the corner and I took her arm to steer her; her arm was incredibly slender but felt very strong. I was completely distracted by her physicality; the warmth and the light bones. I was utterly off-guard, and when the man moved from behind the car next to mine and dug the gun into my ribs it took me slow, dumb seconds to react. And that made it too late.

‘You and the lady get in the car. You in the front and her in the back. I’ll kill him, lady, if you don’t get in.’

I propped and she must have felt me go rigid as I gripped her arm. She got the message and went with me as I shuffled towards the black Fairlane. The gunman tapped me to indicate how I should bend and prodded me forward. I went. He was good; his big heavy body dealt with me and blocked her off at the same time. She got into the back with him, and I sat down beside a youngish Asian who started the car and got it moving quickly and smoothly. I felt the gun on my neck.

‘You got a gun?’

‘No, I don’t usually carry one when we go out for a drink.’

‘Don’t shit me, Hardy. You never met her before. We’ve been trailing you since Scholfield used you to chauffeur him to Hunters Hill. This is the first interesting thing you’ve done. That was Norman’s favourite pub.’

That made him information-rich as well as gun-rich, a dangerous combination.