The Burning Girl-4
they've got themselves established, it seems like they're looking to expand. And poor old Bil y Ryan's on the receiving end."
    "Let's bring a bit of pressure to bear," Brigstocke said. "See just how wel established they are."
    Tughan pushed himself upright, tugged at the sharp creases in the trousers of his suit, dropped his clipboard down on to the desktop. "Right, DS Karim, DC Richards, let's get some Actions organised and al ocated .. ."
    As the briefing broke up, Thorne was amazed when Tughan stepped over and spoke almost as if the two of them didn't hate the sight of each other.

    "Fancy coming to see Bil y Ryan?" Tughan asked.
    "What about the Zarifs?"
    "We'l give that a day or two. Get ourselves a bit of ammunition first."
    "Right."
    "At the moment, the Ryans are four-two down. Let's go and see how they're coping with getting spanked, shal we?"
    Thorne nodded, thinking that the surprises were coming thick and fast. Four-two down. It was tasteless, but stil , any joke from Nick Tughan was firmly in X-Files territory .. .
    They said virtual y nothing as they sat in Tughan's Rover, heading towards Camden Town, the music from the stereo conveniently too loud to al ow casual conversation. They took what was more or less Thorne's usual route home, south through Hampstead and Belsize Park, through one of the most expensive areas of the city towards what was arguably stil the trendiest, though the combat-wearing media brigade in Hoxton or Shoreditch might have welcomed the argument. They drove past the development on the site of Jack Straw's Castle, the coaching inn on Hampstead Heath named after one of the leaders of the Peasants' Revolt and once a favourite haunt of Dickens and Thackeray. Now, on certain nights of the week, gay men who liked their sex casual, and perhaps even dangerous, would gather there in darkened corners before disappearing on to the Heath with strangers.
    "Dick-ins of a completely different sort," Phil Hendricks had said.
    They parked in front of a snooker hal behind Camden Road Station, a few streets away from Bil y Ryan's office. Thorne was hugely relieved to escape from Tughan's car, deciding that, although his own taste in music had irritated a few people in its time, he wouldn't wish Phil Col ins on his worst enemy. The man was perhaps second only to Sting in terms of smugness and his capacity to make you pray for hearing loss. As they walked towards Ryan's place, Thorne couldn't help wondering if gangland enforcers ever considered using a Phil Col ins album as an alternative to pul ing people's teeth out and dril ing through their kneecaps .. .
    Getting in to see the managing director of Ryan Properties was much like getting in to see any other successful businessman, save for the fact that the receptionist had tattoos on his neck.
    "Wait there," he said. Then, "Not yet." And final y, "Go in."
    Thorne wondered whether he spoke only in two-word phrases. When he and Tughan eventual y strol ed into Bil y Ryan's office, Thorne gave the receptionist a pithy, two-word phrase of his own. He watched as Bil y Ryan stood and greeted Tughan like a respected business rival. Tughan shook Ryan's hand, which Thorne thought was distinctly fucking unnecessary, and when he himself was introduced he did no such thing, which Ryan seemed to find amusing.
    Thorne recognised the two other men present from photos. Marcus Moloney had risen quickly through the ranks and was known to be one of Ryan's most trusted associates. The younger man was Ryan's eldest son, Stephen.
    "Shal we crack on, then?" Ryan said.
    As the five men sat Tughan and Thorne on a smal sofa and the others on armchairs and while drinks were offered and refused, Thorne took the place and the people in. They were in one of the two rooms above an office furniture showroom from which Ryan ran his multi-mil ion-pound empire. It was spacious enough, but the decor and furnishings were shabby ironic, considering what they knocked out from the premises

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