‘Don’t beat yourself up about it. Let me do that if we don’t bring him home. How did she do it though, Brodie?’ A sigh escaped my lips. ‘If she is Cupid, then she’s using drugs to sedate him just like she did the others,’ I answered. Moses started to laugh a long slow rumble. ‘Well, I hope she’s got an elephant gun, because if that big crazy bastard wakes up and finds out what she’s done to him…’ He stopped laughing and handed me his mobile. ‘Bancho. Make the call.’

Chapter Sixty

Bancho had worked fast. I guessed that he didn’t want to think how bad the situation was if he was my last resort, so in the early hours of the morning he’d pulled together a group of people–an elite, powerful, influential gathering. I had crossed swords with each and every one of them at some point in my career and was acutely aware of this fact now that I approached them with my begging bowl. I wasn’t concerned that my ego would be dented if they refused to help me; I would do anything to secure Joe’s safety.

This meeting had to be kept secret. If the word got out on the street then lives would be at risk, especially Joe’s. It was why we could not take the chance of meeting anywhere official. My first suggestion was Kailash’s brothel; whores know how to keep their mouths shut. Bancho thought I was taking the piss, but I wasn’t. Half the secrets of Edinburgh are known only to women and men who make their money on their backs and knees. Still, I took Bancho’s point, and as I walked into the Dean of Faculty’s house, I was alone. There was no way Moses would be invited into this hallowed salon. It was one of the most prestigious addresses in the city–I was lucky I was getting over the doorstep of 333 Moray Place myself. David Menteith QC, dean of the Faculty of Advocates, was exhausted after a night of interrupted sleep. Agnes Sampson, Procurator Fiscal, sat in a chair beside an empty fireplace, and she too looked less than pleased at having her slumber disturbed. Ranald Hughes QC was mildly amused at my discomfort.

DI Bancho hovered anxiously, flitting from foot to foot. He had gone out on a limb and I wasn’t sure how much he had told them, but I had to give them what they wanted to get them to help me. The death of a known assassin and former IRA sympathizer like Glasgow Joe would make their day.

Duncan Bancho joined me on the Persian carpet in front of the fireplace. ‘We have a situation.’ He blew out a breath and an apologetic smile flickered across his face. ‘Yesterday, Cupid struck again. This time the victim was in London.’

‘The MO was the same?’ Agnes Sampson asked.