The small package lay on the kitchen worktop dominating everything as if it were the only thing in existence. All of Alex’s attention was fixed upon it, every nerve sizzling, sweat running down his face. He rarely smoked, but this was one of those times when he had to. Diane would go ballistic when she came in. She hated smoking in the house. Even outside, near the pool, every flick of ash had to be cleared away. Some of their friends smoked, but that was different of course. They were her friends. Alex had given up three years ago, one heavy New Year’s Eve. Today he started again.
He pulled out a stool from under the breakfast bar and sat staring at the package. What the hell was it? Cocaine, h****n, any one of a hundred derivatives? He had no idea. The closest he’d ever got to drugs was
