‘Bought from new?’

‘I prefer getting my wheels from reputable dealers. It’s been a while, Mr Fleck.’

‘Long enough for you to switch from Complaints to Gartcosh.’

‘Who’s been whispering in your ear?’

‘What do you want, Fox?’

‘I want what’s due.’

Fleck narrowed his eyes. ‘And what’s that?’

‘Your head on a plate.’

‘You’ve tried that before, remember?’

‘I certainly remember Kyle Weller’s death in custody – I’m sure you do, too.’

‘Accidents will happen, as they say.’

‘But Tynecastle was always more accident-prone than most.’

‘As I recall, you did everything short of hiring a proctologist, and you still drew a blank.’

‘Kyle was by no means the only one. You’ll not have forgotten Tony Barlow – guy spent a month in hospital and a year doing physio.’

Fleck folded his arms. ‘Never proved we had anything to do with it.’

Fox gave a cold smile and pretended to scan his surroundings. ‘Did Cafferty help bankroll this place?’

‘A lifetime’s savings, as bank records will confirm.’

‘He gave you a taste for it, though, didn’t he? Fast cars, I mean. When you helped him ship all those hot ones to Europe.’

‘Why don’t you go waddling back to your little desk job? It’s all your fat arse is fit for these days.’

Fox shook his head slowly. ‘I’m here now, Fleck. And I’m not going anywhere until I’ve heard what Francis Haggard has to say.’

‘Saying is one thing …’

‘Only takes one to start, though, in my experience. That gets the fear going, and others soon join in.’

Fleck took a step towards him. ‘I get it, Fox, I really do. You’d rather hang a history lesson like me out to dry than anyone still on the force.’ He paused. ‘There’s some I could point a finger at – not all of them dead and buried, though at least one is well on his way.’

‘You’re talking about Rebus.’

‘I’m just remembering the favours he did for Cafferty back in the day.’ He paused. ‘You should dig a bit further into the Tony Barlow case, then ask Francis Haggard about it.’

‘Should I ask him about the cars shipped to Zeebrugge, too?’

Fleck offered a shrug. ‘Feel free, but it’ll get you nowhere. Road I’m pointing down is the one you should be taking.’

‘I’m not sure I trust your GPS. You know where to find me if you want to come in for a chat.’ Fox turned towards his Mercedes.

‘Mind if I ask how much you paid for it,’ Fleck called out to him. Instead of answering, Fox climbed in behind the steering wheel. When Fleck approached, he lowered the window. ‘Whatever it was,’ Fleck said, his teeth bared, ‘I’d have charged you a fuck of a sight more.’