‘I’ve told you,’ Don said to his boss, ‘I’m getting too old for this. World’s changing too fast. It’s younger guys like Sam and Eddie you should be relying on.’

‘But it comes down to trust in the end, Don,’ George replied, ‘and I wouldn’t trust either of them the way I trust you. My dad always told me, “Don’s the guy. Any problems, Don’ll sort things out.” ’

‘All in the past, George.’

George had slung an arm around Don’s shoulders. They were walking past the German Shepherds. The two huge dogs stared at them, tongues lolling from their mouths. But they didn’t bark. They knew better than to bark at George. If Don was on his own, they’d be straining at the leash, keen to sink their teeth into a leg or an arm. But right now, George was protecting him.

The two men were heading into the heart of the scrapyard. Cars and other vehicles were piled on top of each other. Many had been hauled here from the scenes of accidents. People would have died in those accidents. People would have lost limbs and loved ones.

‘So tell me again,’ George said. ‘Tell me how it all happened.’

Don thought for a moment and took a deep breath. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I drove into the garage, like you told me. Hanley wasn’t there yet, so it was just me and Raymond. Raymond was working on a Bentley, polishing the dashboard, really doing a thorough job…’

‘He’s a car valet.That’s what he does.’

‘Not any more.’

George managed a sympathetic look. ‘Not any more,’ he agreed.

‘So anyway, I was talking to him, just the usual stuff… and then Hanley arrives. He drives on to the forecourt but leaves his car there, keeps the engine running. He wasn’t planning on sticking around. The bag was in the front seat of my car. Should only have taken us two minutes…’

‘So when did the bandit arrive?’