Burns climbed into the back seat and asked the driver to take him to Bethel Street. He knew that they would have to take a trip around the majority of the city centre loop in order to reach their destination.

With his head leaning on the window, Burns took in the city around him. Leeds at night was as bad as any he had seen in his career. It was only eight thirty, and already the underdressed youth were stumbling around the littered streets. Burns had never been a drinker, and failed to see the attraction of nightlife. The bright lights from the various bars gave him a headache, and the office blocks of different sizes were creating an ever increasing eye sore.  He glanced to the rear view mirror and caught the taxi driver watching him.

"Everything alright mate?"

"Fine, shouldn't you be watching the road?" The driver took the hint and looked ahead. For a few moments the only sound in the saloon car were coming from the CB radio in between the front seats. The words coming from the woman at the control centre were unintelligible and Burns wondered how the drivers ever understood it. He sat up straight, trying to find a little more energy from somewhere. He studied the drivers' licence card which hung from the bottom of the rear view. The name read Karl Pettinger and the photo was one taken quite a few years before, when the driver still had a little hair remaining.

"Mind if I smoke?" Burns asked, already taking one out of the pack.

"Only if I can pinch one." The driver joked. Burns passed one over his shoulder and wound down his window.

"Say, the place you picked me up, isn't that for the black and white cabs?" The driver gave him a quick glance in the mirror, and answered.

"Supposed to be, but we've got to make a living eh?"

"Suppose so."

"You see..." He continued. "They set these taxi ranks up and people like us can never get a fair. The way I see it, they can't own the customers, you know what I mean. There are plenty of people out there who need a lift home on a Friday night, and most of them don't want to pay their fucking prices. Do you know how much-"

"But you have a call centre. Surely plenty of people call in."

"Not as many as you think. I'll make more money just picking people up like I did with you. There was this one night-"

"Bit risky though isn't it? What happens if you get caught?"

The driver laughed, throwing his shiny head backwards in the process. 

"The black and white drivers are trying to stop us, but it'll never happen. I think the council have more on their plates than a... hold on, you're not from the council or anything are you?" The driver laughed and Burns joined in.

"Worse," He said, reaching into his jacket. "Morgan Burns, CID. Would you mind pulling over for a second?"

Pettinger complied without question. The car came to a stop in a conveniently quiet part of town. The clubs and bars had been left behind, now they were just surrounded by dreary office buildings with little or no light coming from the many windows. Pettinger yanked the hand break up with frustration and spun around in his seat.

"What is this, some kind of set up?"

"Could you step out of the vehicle for me Mr Pettinger?" He sighed heavily and swung his door open. As he stood and brushed down his jacket, Burns watched the driver flick his cigarette out into the road.

"You know, you can get fined for that these days."

"Fuck you, I think I've got more than that to worry about than that."

"True enough, is this your car?" Burns asked as he took a step away from the vehicle. It was an ageing Volvo without any form of advertising on its sides. There was, however, a small light on the top which read ‘Taxi'. One that could be easily attached.

"What?"

"This car, is it yours? Is it a company car? Are you just borrowing it to make a few quid?"

"Company car, that's what it is."

"So it belongs to AJ's Taxis then."

"That's what I said isn't it?"

"Explain this then." Burns passed him the envelope from his pocket, the one which held the DVLA search result, confirming him to be the owner. Pettinger stared at the paper for a long moment and then back up to Burns.

"What are you after man? Don't you people have anything better to do? Look, I'm just a bloke looking to make an hon... make a living. I've got two kids at home who need all sorts of shit for school. We have to get them uniforms, books-"

"Shut up Karl. You know why I'm here."

"Yeah, so go ahead, take my details and run them by the council. I'll pay a fine, you think I give a shit? I'll pay for the bleedin' fag aswell."

While Pettinger spoke, Burns made his way to the rear of the vehicle. He gave the tyre a couple of light kicks.

"You finished? Open the boot."

"Can't you just-"

"Open to boot Karl, and stop fucking around."  He reached into the open window and took out the keys. As he walked around the car, his eyes were fixed on Burns. He looked like a man who was all too ready to lose it.

"Look, what do you want from me? You want money officer?" He reached into his pocket and produced a handful of crumpled notes. "How much to leave me alone?"

"I want you to open the boot. What's wrong with that, something to hide?" With that, Pettinger lost control. He allowed the handful of money to fall to the ground and raised his fist, ready to strike. The screeching tyres from the breaking patrol cars stopped him.

"Stop right there!" A uniformed officer yelled as he almost fell out of the door. The other officer approached the pair and was ready to cuff Pettinger. Burns held out a hand for the young man to stop.

"Times up Karl, now open the boot or I'll do it for you."

Pettinger couldn't bring himself to do it. Instead, he handed the keys over to Burns who unlocked the boot and popped the boot open. Inside, he saw what he expected, and a little more.

Burns knew that he had been carrying coke, but had never expected this much. He lifted a couple of the A4 sized bags and saw that pills and cannabis were lined underneath. Also, and perhaps most disturbingly, a machete sat at the back of the boot, with dustings of cocaine over the handle.

Burns took a long look at the contents of the boot, lifted his eyes to the taxi driver, and smiled.

"Been busy Karl?"