The pain is like a drumbeat in his head, as if it was the Number that was calling him. He had just killed a man. I’m not going back to prison, he decides for himself, as he picks up the fallen man’s gun.

“Drop the gun, Mister Figaro,” a voice barks out of the dark.

Joey contemplates the order, the gun butt snuggled firmly in the palm of his hand.

“You think Janey will find the card?” Joey asks the voice.

“What card?”

“The bank card for the ‘worry money’,” Joey answers.

The detective steps into the security light of the building, a gun in his hand. They look at each other across the distance.

“You saved my life back there at the station, Mr Figaro,” the detective says.

“Saved?”

“Lucky I had a vest on, but he was aiming at my head and the others would surely have died,” the sergeant says. “The one you shot and this one here,” he nods at the body on the street, “they were high on the wanted list.”

“And the kid at the station?”

“Son of a prominent gangster, ran away from home. We caught him. This one and the other were sent to bring him home. You’re a hero, Mr Figaro.”

“Oh no, I just want to get home and go to sleep.”

A pregnant silence follows. “You know I can’t do that, Mr Figaro. You just killed one man and shot another.”

***

Tell us: Does Joey deserve to be arrested?