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put him away, as and when I tell you to get it?’ Straightening up, he brushed down his suit jacket and tidied his hair.
    Peter Wilson watched him from the floor. As Laughton reached the door, Peter said timidly, ‘Who’s the face, Mr Laughton? Tell me that at least.’
    Laughton grinned, knowing the boy was his now, as he had known all along he would be. Turning, he said, ‘An old friend of yours, Peter. Georgio Brunos.’
    He walked from the room, grinning.
    Peter lay on the floor, his hands protectively holding his wedding tackle, and two big fat tears rolled down his face.
    He was a dead man, and he knew it.

    ‘What do you fucking mean, what’s going on? Do you think I’m here for the beer or something?’
    Georgio’s voice was high and indignant and Donna closed her eyes before answering him.
    ‘Don’t swear at me, Georgio, I’m not the enemy.’

    He wiped a heavy hand across his face and sighed. ‘It’s a fucking setup, Donna, you know it is. What the fuck would I be doing at a blag, eh? Especially one with loaded guns and a fucking bunch of ice creams doing the actual blagging.’
    Donna drew in a deep breath before speaking, trying to calm down the erratic beating of her heart. ‘Look, Georgio, all I know is, they’ve turned the house over …’
    He pounced on her then, grabbing her thin arms above the elbows and shaking her. ‘Did they take anything? Say anything?’ ‘Georgio, for God’s sake. Calm down! You’re hurting me.’ He stared down into the beautiful strained face of his wife, then, pulling her into his arms, he crushed her against his body. Burying his face in her hair he breathed in her scent.
    ‘Laughton’s after me, Donna. He wants my face in the frame and I can’t do a fucking thing about it.’
    Donna hugged her husband to her, feeling for the first time ever a sense of unease about the man she had married.
    ‘But why would this Laughton want you so badly? What have you ever done to him, Georgio, that he should do this to you?’ She pulled herself from her husband’s embrace and looked into his face. ‘It just doesn’t make any sense.’
    Pushing her roughly away, he bellowed, ‘What do you mean? Do you think I had a tickle then, is that it? Fuck me, my own wife thinks I’m a blagger now! That’s all I need, ain’t it? Where you been then? Round me mother’s? I bet she’s loving this, ain’t she. Christ! I can’t believe you fucking said that.’
    He stormed around the small interview room, his shoulders tense, his face a mask of hard energy and rage. ;
    ‘Will you calm down, Georgio, please? I am not trying to say anything. I just want to know what the hell is going on, why you should be blamed. That’s all.’
    He bit on his bottom lip. His pupils were like pinpoints in the harsh lights of the room. He was agitated and Donna realised then that he was really in trouble. Serious trouble.
    ‘Get me a brief, love, a good brief. Phone that cunt Simpson - it’s about time he earned his collar anyway. Then get on to Davey and the others at the lot, tell them the score. Tell Davey I’ll be in touch whatever happens, all right?’
    Donna nodded, then realised that she was being dismissed. He wanted her to leave! Standing straight, she pushed the strap of her bag over her shoulder.
    ‘I’ll go then. Leave you to sort this lot out, shall I? It’s seven-thirty in the morning and I haven’t slept all night, my home has been

    them ransacked, legally ransacked, and you have the audacity to dismiss me?’
    Georgio looked at her in consternation. ‘Leave it out, Donna. I’ve got enough on me plate without you crying and bawling. Laughton’s hauling me up the court this morning to get an extension, the way things are going I ain’t even going to get bail, so the last thing on my mind is you. I’m sorry if that upsets you, love, but that’s the truth of it.’ ,
    He gazed into her face and sighed once more. ‘I’m looking at a ten stretch here, don’t you