'You're late, Dennis.'

'It's the pressures of police work. It makes punctuality close to impossible. Blame the government. They're the ones letting all the criminals out.'

He released the chain and let me in. I followed him into the kitchen, noticing that his feet were bare and his shirt was hanging out the back of his trousers. A very slovenly state. It looked like he hadn't set foot outside the flat all day.

'D'you want a cup of tea, or something?' he asked, putting the kettle on.

'Yeah, thanks, a tea'd be nice.' I put the bag containing his share on one of the worktops and leaned back against the cooker. 'I've got your money here.'

He nodded, getting a couple of cups down from one of the shelves. 'Cheers.'

'Do you mind if I smoke?'

'You don't usually ask.'

'Well, I can see you're in a sensitive mood, so I thought I'd be polite.'

He turned to me, his face registering a vague disgust. 'This whole thing doesn't faze you at all, does it?'

I lit the cigarette. 'Of course it does. But it's been done now. We'll know to be more careful next time, but regrets don't change a thing.'

'It's not about regrets. This was a huge fuck-up, Dennis, and the cops aren't going to let go of it. Not until they've caught someone. And that means us.'

I took a drag on the cigarette, feeling tired of all the verbal sparring in my life. I'd once had the chance to become an apprentice plumber, which would have paid a lot more money for a lot less hassle. At this moment, I wished I'd gone that route.

'Danny, there's one thing about policework you ought to know. It's all about trails. If you leave a trail when you commit your crime, which most people do, then the police will follow it until they find you.'

'Don't patronize me, Dennis. I don't fucking need it.'

'But if you don't leave a trail then there's nothing to follow. The police just run into a brick wall.'

He sighed, then turned to pour the teas. I watched him as he beat the teabags with his spoon. He was agitated, badly so; I felt I might have overestimated his nerve. I took another long, thoughtful drag on the cigarette. Most cigarettes I smoke I don't enjoy. I think that's the case with the majority of smokers. You put one in your mouth because you know that if you don't, you'll only be thinking about smoking and wondering when you're going to have your next one until you do. But this cigarette was different. It tasted really good.

'You know, looking at you with that makes me wish I'd started smoking.'

'Do you want one?'

'You'd give me one as well, wouldn't you? Christ, Dennis, the things you get me involved in. And you a fucking copper…'

He passed me my cup of tea. It didn't taste very nice. Underbrewed and too much milk.

'I'm sorry about the job, Danny, I really am. I didn't know it was going to turn out to be customs men. If I had, I'd never have touched the thing with a bargepole.'

'So what were you told? Originally.'

'I was told it was three drug dealers. According to my contact, they were trying to muscle in on some friends of his.'

'And who was your contact?'

Danny had never met Raymond nor, as far as I knew, had he ever heard of him. I liked to keep Raymond Keen, and my association with him, as quiet as possible. For obvious reasons. 'You don't want to know,' I told him. 'Seriously. There's no point.'

He thought about that for a couple of seconds, then let it go. 'So how did you know they were going to be there? At the Traveller's Rest?'

'Those blokes? Apparently my contact had set it up so that they were going there for a clear-the-air meeting with his associates. All I had to do was pick them off when they arrived.'

He shook his head and sighed. 'You know, I've been thinking about this shit all day. Ever since it happened. And if they were customs… Think about it. If they were customs, then how the fuck did your associate know they were going to be there?'

'He says they were corrupt. It was a blackmail job, that's all I know. They were crooked; they were obviously involved in something they shouldn't have been.'

'So, if that's the case, how do we know the police can't find a trail?'

'They can't find a trail through us.'

'But what if they can find a trail that leads to your contact? If those blokes were corrupt, then the cops are going to find out, aren't they? And if they were involved with the man who hired you in some way, then they'll be able to follow the trail back to him.'

'They won't. Everything was very carefully planned.'

'But that's not the worst of it,' he continued, ignoring my comment.

I looked at him. 'Really?'

'What if they weren't corrupt, Dennis?'

I was beginning to get tired of this. 'Look, Danny. My contact's a middle-aged businessman who's made a fair bit of money over the years. What I'm trying to tell you is that he's an intelligent man. He's not going to do anything that's going to get him in a load of shit.' I finished the cigarette and tea at the same time and threw the one in the other.

Danny sighed. 'So what I've been thinking all day is this: maybe there's more to this whole thing than meets the eye. This thing could be a lot bigger than we think. If those customs officers weren't corrupt then they were involved in something so sensitive that they had to die for it.' He emphasized the last words like a paperback detective making a speech to his assembled suspects. 'And if that's the case, then not only is your contact heavily involved, he's also got some fucking good contacts of his own to set this sort of thing up.'

'Well, if that's the case, then you shouldn't be worried. Because there's not much chance of us getting caught, is there?'

'Maybe not, but, well… you've got to think…'

'What? What have you got to think?'

He sighed again, choosing his words carefully. It took a long time to get what he wanted to say out. 'That what's the point in keeping us alive? We're loose ends, Dennis. Loose ends involved in something very, very major. And now we've done what we were meant to do, then, you know…' He let the sentence trail off into the distance.

'Jesus, Danny, you've got to get yourself into some gainful employment. You've been watching far too much TV. This isn't a fucking mafia film. If we keep our mouths shut and go about our daily business as if nothing's happened, then we'll be all right. I told you that on the night. Nothing that's happened since changes anything.'

'I hope you're right,' he said, but he didn't sound convinced.

I felt paternal towards him then. 'I am. Don't worry.' I stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder, not in a patronizing way, more of a man-to-man way. 'Just try not to think about it, and remember, in a few days' time it'll all have blown over.'

'Yeah, I know, I know. It's difficult, though. Sitting here all day.'

'Do you want to come to a pub quiz?'

'Eh?'

'A pub quiz. There's one I go to on Tuesday nights when I've got the time. It's teams of four. There's a couple of blokes I normally play with, but we're often short of a fourth.'

Danny looked at me aghast, his usually thin blue eyes bugging out like they were on mini springs. 'Are you serious? Fuck me, Dennis, I don't know how you can live with yourself.'

'What? Going to pub quizzes?'

'You know what I mean.'

'Like I said, we've just got to carry on as normal. And what's more normal than a pub quiz?'

'And to think my sister was going to marry you.'

'Lucky you came along and fucked it all up really, wasn't it?'

He shot me a guilty look then, which I knew he would. It was cruel really, making him pay again for something that happened all that time ago.

I grinned at him to show I was only joking, and clapped him on the shoulder again. Still very much man-to-man. 'Come on, it'll be a laugh. Shit, it's got to be better than sitting here biting your nails and gawking at the TV, waiting for your mugshot to appear.'