"What happened?"

"The old Ford van at the end of the wharf? It always has a key in it, not worth stealing. I reckon he'd checked it out previously, because he ran straight for it, was in and driving off, but the wrong way. There was no place to turn, and he simply ran over the edge of the wharf in the dark."

"With him in it?"

"The police are here now. They'll have a recovery team get the truck later, but a police diver's been down, and he's found the guy. He's gone down again with another diver to try and get him. Harry's here, and he'd like a word."

The unmistakable cockney voice of Billy's uncle echoed around the canteen. Harry Salter, a gangster for most of his life and now a property millionaire, said, "Well, this is nice, Roper, we could all have been roasted in our beds. What the hell was the bugger playing at? There was a grand in the till. Wasn't that enough?"

It was Ferguson who said, "It's me, Harry, and Dillon's just back from New York with the strangest story you've heard in a long time." He turned to Roper. "You explain."

Which Roper did.

Standing on Cable Wharf in Wapping near his beloved pub, the Dark Man, Harry said, "Jesus Christ, Roper, this is incredible."

"But true, Harry. The guy who shot Blake, the one who attacked Miller, and then the General's rogue driver last night, all were in possession of the same prayer card."

"Tell me again what it says?"

Roper did. "The police will search your arsonist's body when they get him up. Billy can use some muscle by flashing his MI5 card. See where it gets you, and call back."

Ferguson said, "An interesting one, gentlemen."

"What is?" Harry Miller entered at that moment.