'Care to join me for a walk, Dennis?' said Raymond, interrupting my thoughts. 'Or would you prefer to continue your meditation?'

There he was, bright as a bell, a wide smile on his big round face, as if the whole world were his playground and all was fair within it. That was Raymond Keen for you. He was one of those big, bouncy guys who simply oozed joie de vivre. Even his haircut, a magnificent silver bouffant of the kind so beloved of middle-aged men who want to put one over on their balding contemporaries, and which sat on the top of his head like a curled-up Cheshire cat, seemed designed to tell the world what a jolly character he was. Which was a little odd when you considered that one of his more active and lucrative sidelines was running a funeral parlour. But Raymond, as became clear when you got to know him, was a man with a deeply ironic sense of humour.

'I'll join you, I think,' I told him.

I got up and we started to walk across the grass in the direction of the boating lake. Some kids who should have been in school were playing football and a few mothers were out strolling with pushchairs, but other than that the park was quiet.

I didn't beat about the bush. 'What the fuck happened, Raymond? You told me I was shooting drug dealers.'

Raymond attempted a rueful smile but he didn't look overly guilty. 'Give me a break, Dennis. I could hardly have told you the real targets, could I? You wouldn't have shot them.'

'I know I wouldn't have shot them! That's the point. You got me involved in something that's against everything I stand for.'

Raymond stopped and looked at me, a smile playing on his lips. Angry or not, it was obvious he knew there was nothing I could do about the situation. He had me pinned, and he knew I knew it.