Spaghetti flicked his cigar
butt into The River. “Perfect. The house is shut up, no staff on the premises.
No stoppers on the beat, no street lights and nobody about in Chelsea at this
time of night. Just a few flashes from the bombing down The River.” He glanced at his companion. “I’ll see you round the back, Missionary. Best to split up,
less conspicuous. I’ve parked our new van round the corner in
case there’s any big stuff to shift.”
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