Cash drove along Consett Ave, past the address where Paul lived. Drove back past it. It looked like one way in, one way out. He had seen Paul at Fever; he didn’t look like much in terms of being trouble, but who knew in this crazy world? He parked. Walked up a set of stairs past letterboxes. Paul was in number four, which had nothing hanging out the letterbox, unlike all the other boxes.
He walked down a side passage for number three, backtracked down the right-hand side. Number four. He took a breath, felt for his piece still in the holster, a kind of nervous reaction. Something felt off about this guy. The drugs with Tanya. He pressed his finger against the small black button and it chimed inside.
He waited behind the security door, which he didn’t like. Paul could tell him to piss off
