All Somgrai’s rage and forward momentum converted by a flick of the Russian’s wrist on to the fist that was flying through the air at his head. Incredibly, the huge bulk of Somgrai flew off the ground in an arc that took him over the Range Rover and splattered him head first on to the pavement. It was all over in an instant, blood pouring out of an ear of his stilled form.

‘You drive, I’ll interrogate this piece of shit in the back of the car.’

‘Drive? I’ve only ever ridden motorcycles.’

‘Don’t worry about it, it’s all the same. Throttle on the right, clutch on the left, brake in the middle. We’ve got to get out of here before the cops turn up. They won’t stop us in a flash motor like this.’

It was obviously time to quaff a couple more pills… the key was still in the ignition, the motor spat into life the moment I touched it. Power thrummed through the vehicle as I played with the throttle. Half a dozen dogs shot out of nowhere, sleazy specimens that dribbled drool but made an ear splitting racket. As I didn’t want to stall the motor, I gave the throttle some serious stick, hit on the clutch and shoved the gear lever into first.

When the clutch came up off the floor, the car bolted forward, ran over the body of the nearest canine; went out with a squeal. The narrow lane that led into Rama IV soon eaten up by the rapid acceleration. I steered wildly into the traffic, which late at night had eased considerably. I crunched up to second, almost running down a couple of ped’s as we lurched forward, one of the front wheels digging into a crater that left the driving wheel spinning in my hand.

The transvestite squealing in the back as the Russian tortured and interrogated him.

‘Where are the pills manufactured? Where’s the lab?’

‘I don’t know… aaaargh.’

A brief hole in the traffic allowed me to hammer the throttle to the floor in third. My heart stuttering away, palpitations that presaged a massive and fatal heart attack. Suddenly, a wavering green mini-bus and overloaded lorry tried to converge on the spot I was aiming for. Where the f..k was the horn…

‘Where’s the lab, you piece of shit? Tell me or you’re dead meat!’