‘Bob, I’m gonna go get us some coffees.’

And went out the back entrance.

He was just disappearing down the steps at the side of the station when he noticed a couple of cops watching the front of the left luggage. Angie had said they’d be there and that there’d be plenty of them.

Ray was waiting in a taxi and Jimmy tore off the coat, put it and the bags on the seat, said:

‘See you later.’

And he returned to work.

When he got back, Bob asked:

‘Where’s the coffee?’

‘They were closed.’

Bob said never no mind, they’d brew their own. This included adding a drop of creature comfort in the form of Highland Grouse. It improved the hell out of whatever you were drinking. The hot drinks went down so well they batched up another lot and omitted the coffee — you can have too much of a good thing. It was Friday evening and close to knocking-off time. Soon they’d wander down to the Railworkers’ Club and sink a few bitters. All in all, it was a pretty mellow way to launch the weekend. Bob was feeling very relaxed, said:

‘Jim, did you hear the fashion that bloody copper spoke to me?’

‘No, Bob, I missed that.’

‘Yeah, the fucker, he tried to run riot, shouting the odds about being in the Met and wouldn’t pay for the ticket.’

Jimmy didn’t care either way and said:

‘But you were able for him, I’d say.’

‘Too bloody right, I don’t take shit from no one. What’s the big deal with the bag, do you think?’

They looked at the bag, ‘Swag’ in white letters almost glowing. Jimmy shrugged his shoulders and Bob asked: