51
Martin pulled up his trousers and zipped the fly. In for a penny, in for a pound. That was his motto. Besides which, he had to carry on the charade. If he’d come in, shoved a piece of paper at the lad and walked back out, they’d be straight onto him.
‘You’re allowed to take tips, right?’ he said to the young man in front of him, already knowing the answer to the question.
Although the man spoke good English, he simply nodded.
His heart pounding, Martin reached his hand into the pocket of his light-coloured chinos and fished out the five twenty-pound notes he’d left in there. He held them for a moment, locking eyes with the man, then handed over the folded notes.
He watched as the man carefully unfolded them and read the small piece of paper that had been carefully concealed inside.
