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time. The gun had clinched the deal of working at the flat, of course. It made Johnny immediately imagine he was some sort of courageous hero.
    They reached the casino and sat for a few minutes savouring how successful their plan was going to be and how it would change their lives. Rain sparkled down the windscreen, jewels of light caught in the neon reflection of the casino.
    ‘There’s still one thing I can’t help worrying about,’ Renee said eventually. ‘OK, he’s a naive idiot, but will he have enough nerve to go along with the plan? After all, it’s a risky robbery.’
    ‘What’s risky about it?’
    Renee laughed. ‘For God’s sake, Paul. We’re talking a fortune here.’
    ‘But it’s perfect. We’ve got a copy of the key to the safe. We know the manager looks forward to his night break in the staff dining room and he leaves his office on the dot at the same time every night. We know he sits and reads his book while he eats his two rolls and bacon and drinks two cups of coffee. He’s there for nearly an hour every night, concentrating on his book and chewing at his dentures. He’s been doing it for years. We’ve been watching him for years, haven’t we? He’s never once deviated from his routine.’ Paul grinned. ‘It gives Johnny plenty of time to nip in the side window and empty the safe of all that lovely cash that’s waiting to be put in the bank first thing in the morning.’
    ‘I know all that. All I’m saying is, will Johnny muster enough nerve to do it?’
    ‘Well, there’s the motivation first of all. We’ll tell him what a perfect life he could give his mother and sister with his share of the money, and how they’ll be able to start a wonderful new life abroad, and so on.’
    ‘What if that still doesn’t give him enough nerve?’
    ‘For God’s sake, you worry too much. We can tell him to take the gun. Not to use it. There’ll be no need for that. Only to make him feel more confident, a big James Bond hero. Just leave Johnny to me, OK?’
    They entered the casino and, as they worked at their tables, they kept glancing over to the door of the manager’s office, past the tense faces of the gamblers. Dead on time, the door opened and the manager, in his smart black suit and black bow tie, appeared. As usual, he was clutching his book. He was a thin, lanky guy with a long, pinched nose. The only time he wore spectacles was when he was reading his book. They perched on the end of his nose and any croupiers who saw him said they were surprised his specs didn’t slip off his nose and splash into his coffee.
    After three-quarters of an hour, the tall figure appeared again, walked back to the office and shut the door behind him. Johnny would have plenty of time to get in, open the safe and stuff all the money into the bag that Renee had made especially for the purpose. It was to be fastened round his chest, under his coat. Then he would escape back through the window and return to his house in Botanic Crescent. That way, there would be no connection between the robbery and any of the croupiers. Later, when they thought it to be safe, they would collect the money from Johnny. Admittedly, they would have a lot of persuading to do to get Johnny to go along with the plan, but they were becoming more and more certain that they could do it.

4
    They used to call Hamish Ferguson ‘Fatty Ferguson’ when he was at secondary school. They ignored his pimples. That, he supposed, was because quite a few of the other pupils, boys and girls alike, suffered the same disadvantage. Bad skin seemed to be just another problem of being a teenager. However, Hamish was the only overweight pupil in the class at secondary school and he was never allowed to forget it.
    At home, his mother was ashamed of him. At least, she never wanted to be seen with him. She was very glamorous for an older woman. She did her best to look younger. She’d had what she called ‘a boob job’. She’d had her long hair dyed