25 RestitutionThe derelict industrial unit was in a dingy east London backstreet. O’Conner hired the unit on an ad hoc basis from one of her many organised crime contacts when the need for privacy was essential. The afternoon sun shone brightly through the filthy skylights that had most definitely seen better days. A single sixty-watt bulb burned dimly just above the inspection pit where O’Conner sat smoking her second cigarette since arriving. She had left the Hampshire undertakers shortly after incapacitating Drake – but not before she had tied him up and placed him in the boot of her stolen BMW 5 series.
‘What’s the camera for?’ Drake asked, shackled to a chair opposite O’Conner.
‘I took a picture of our friend before I left your workshop,’ she replied with the cigarette in the corner
