The return and retribution of Misterdenmature

The early morning sunlight glistened across the water of Hong Kong's Victoria Harbour. From the 52nd floor penthouse of the Mid-levels tower the view, as ever, was spectacular. Dennis James Cooper, billionaire entrepreneur, philanthropist, father, bank-robber and murderer, sat watching the BBC World News on his 60 inch plasma TV, while drinking his second cup of coffee.

Dennis; Den or DJ to his mates, groaned at the latest tale of social decline in his native Britain. Another teenager stabbed to death in London. A 17 year old boy killed for the petty theft of his iphone and left to die bleeding in agony in the gutter of Marylebone Road, near Baker Street. He was a student innocently leaving Madame Tussauds with his friends and he died protecting a cell phone bought for him by his girlfriend. The girlfriend sobbed in a brief press conference praising the bravery and gentleness of her boyfriend, the 22nd teenager to die from stab wounds in the streets of London this year

Dennis decided then. He looked out at the Asian skyline once more, at the bobbing yachts in the harbour, where he could have gone today to play with one of his many executive toys and felt a surge of commitment and determination in the caffeine shot just swallowed. Dennis picked up his phone from the coffee table, pressed a quick-dial key and quietly muttered instructions. He replaced the handset and repeated his thoughts once more. It was time to go back. It was time to put a few things right. It was time to put something back where he once took so much.

Across town, a discreet 24 hour VIP service company took one last order from their most valued client. A private plane was booked, a chauffeur called into action and a personal assistant dispatched to pack luggage. "Quickly" they were told. "Mister Den is leaving".