‘How did it go?’

‘Worse than you can imagine.’

Brant lit a cig, watched Roberts’ face for a moment, then said:

‘They’re going to pay?’

Roberts thought he was all done with being surprised at Brant, asked:

‘How the hell did you know that?

‘No big deal, they’re cowardly fucks.’

Roberts thought that Brant was taking it pretty well, said:

‘You’re taking it pretty well.’

Brant shrugged, went:

‘Just means we’ll have added motivation to get the fucks.’

Roberts wasn’t sure if he meant the bombers or the brass and with Brant you never could tell. Roberts said he’d better go get the money arranged and Brant said:

‘It’s a fine whack of cash. You think you could slide a few hundred aside, we could have a bit of a drink with it?’

‘Are you serious?’

Brant’s smile was in place and he said:

‘Who’s going to notice a wedge off the top?’

Roberts shook his head but he did actually think about it.

Later in the day, a guy arrived from headquarters, dressed in a pinstripe suit and carrying a large briefcase. Roberts asked:

‘Are you a cop or a banker?’

The man had yellow teeth, which spoiled the suit and clashed with his shining white shirt. He said:

‘Is that really relevant?

‘It is to me.’

‘I’ll need another witness while I count the money.’

Roberts couldn’t believe his ears, asked:

‘You didn’t count it already?’

The man regarded him coldly and Roberts summoned Brant, who gave the guy a slap on the back, said:

‘You’re doing God’s own work there, you know that?’