“I wouldn’t count on it,” Logan remarked. “But I’ll check.” He glanced at his watch, then up to the ceiling. It had all gone very quiet up there now. Worryingly so.

“Don’t let me keep you, Jack,” Cowan said. “Lovely as it’s been to catch up, I’m more than happy for you to get up and go, anytime you like.”

“Far be it from me to outstay my welcome, Shuggie,” Logan said, but he made no move to go anywhere yet. “I’m going to need one more thing from you, though.”

Cowan let out a single, “Ha!” at that. “Are you indeed?” he asked. “And what might that be, exactly?”

“I’ll need details of the women who’ve appeared in your films.”

“No. Absolutely not,” Cowan said. “I won’t compromise their privacy.”

It was Logan’s turn to laugh, although his managed to be even more brief than Shuggie’s. “You weren’t worried about compromising their privacy when you were filming them getting pumped by some big lad from Cowdenbeath.”

Cowan frowned. “We don’t have anyone working with us from Cowdenbeath.”

“Or wherever the fuck they’re from,” Logan said. “I just meant your privacy concerns soon go out the window when there’s money to be made.”

Cowan stabbed a finger onto the tabletop. “They use fake names. We never shared any identifying details, unless they instructed us to in writing, and only then with a witness present. Archie protected our girls. We both did.”

Logan leaned forward in his chair. “Aye, see, that’s what’s got me thinking, Shuggie. That’s what’s got the old noggin ticking away. Archie looking out for those women. That’s got me wondering.”

Cowan took another draw on his cigarette and peered at Logan through the haze of smoke. “About what?”

“Archie and his family, they weren’t just lugging a big bag of money around with them,” Logan said, paying close attention to the older man’s reaction. “They had something else with them, too…”

Chapter Thirty

Logan opened the door at the top of the stairs to find Tyler bent awkwardly over a table, as a man with a big stick stood glowering behind him.

There was a jerk of an arm, a thack of balls smashing together, and then a cheer of glee as the black ball bounced once in the jaws of the pocket, then flopped down into the workings of the pool table.

“Yes!” Tyler cried, raising his cue triumphantly above his head like some sort of wizard’s staff.

The man with the other cue cleared his throat, drawing Tyler’s attention to the white ball. It was lazily rolling back along the table, trundling closer and closer to the pocket closest to where he stood.

“Don’t you dare,” Tyler groaned, his gaze creeping along after the ball.