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‘What did you tell him?’
‘To go forth and multiply.’
‘I’m sure that’ll have helped.’
‘Possibly not, I suspect that I’m going to get cliped on again. He’s turned into a right grass, that bugger has.’
‘So?’
‘So, what?’ said Ross, his voice full of irritation.
‘So, what are we doing about it?’ said Max.
‘Nothing.’
‘What, just nothing?’
‘What do you expect us to do? A murderous bastard kills a corrupt ex-cop in jail. A MIT team is being formed and they’ll deal with it. Probably very quickly if what I’m hearing is correct. We’re just another unit within Police Scotland, we’re not a posse in the wild west. We do as we’re bastard told, or we end up at the end of the dole queue, pal. Now go to bed, and stay out of this case, and tell that busybody Calder the same. Am I clear?’
‘Crystal.’
‘Good, now piss off. See you next week.’ There was a click and he was gone.
‘That sounded typically Ross,’ said Katie.
Max said nothing, just closed his eyes and rubbed hard with his hands. The whole situation was surging in his mind, and he knew he was missing something. Something was staring them in the face, and he couldn’t fathom what it was. A mix of frustration and anxiety began to rise inside him, and he knew there was only one thing he could do to make it stop.
‘Max, is everything okay?’ said Katie, reaching her hand out to his bare thigh.
Max shook his head, vigorously, trying to shake the fog that was descending. ‘I’m going for a run.’
19
DAVIE HARDIE SATin the back of the anonymous-looking Ford Minibus in the sterile area between the external and internal prison gates. They waited there in silence, apart from the murmur of the breakfast radio station, which only just managed to break the uncomfortable atmosphere in the stuffy van.
‘So where to then, Davie?’ said DS Maxwell, who was sitting next to Davie at the rear of the van, his wrist shackled to Davie’s with an old-fashioned set of link handcuffs.
‘You need to know now?’
‘Aye, of course we do. We have Marine Support Unit ready to meet us there, and I don’t want to piss them about.’
‘The White Loch,’ said Davie. He felt tense and on edge, but was trying as hard as he could not to show it to the bastard cops, or the slimy Leo. He couldn’t let them know how he was feeling, or they’d see it as a sign of weakness.
‘Where’s that?’ asked Maxwell.
‘Near Newton Mearns, not far from East Kilbride.’
‘I know it, right enough, I sometimes paddleboard there. It’s about an hour there this time of day. Lovely spot,’ said the driver, whose name badge read ‘Constable Clegg’.
‘Nice and low profile, guys. I like it, you know how my fellow prisoners would take me helping you guys out, eh?’
‘Snitches get stiches,’ said DC Laithwaite.
‘Aye, at best,’ said Davie, chuckling.
‘Well, you see, Davie. Your former empire is no more, so there are no grounds for an armed escort, hence it’s just us five in the van, as agreed.’
‘Well, I’m obliged, dudes,’ said Davie with a sarcastic smirk.
