PC Sim untangled herself from a swivel chair and lurched to her feet. Scarlet smears covered her mouth, twin trails glistened their way down the front of her stab-proof vest. ‘Gagh. . .’ She spat – frothy and red. ‘Bit my tongue.’ Then stared at Dildo. ‘Jeepers. Is he going to be—’

‘Don’t just stand there: GET AFTER HER!’

Sim blinked a couple of times, nodded, then charged over, wrenched open the back door and disappeared.

Logan limped across and sank down next to Dildo. ‘Tim, you’re going to be OK. We’re going to sort you out. It’s OK, it’s OK.’

Blood bubbles popped at the side of his mouth. ‘I don’t want to die. . .’

Logan dragged out his traitorous phone. ‘I need an ambulance and back-up to J. Stewart and Son bookmakers, Mastrick.’

‘One moment, I’ll just—’

‘Don’t you sodding dare put me on hold! I’ve got a Trading Standards Officer with stab wounds to the chest, Agnes Garfield is fleeing the scene, PC Sim is chasing her on foot.’

‘I don’t want to die. . .’

‘You’re not going to die, Tim, just calm down OK? Ambulance is on its way.’

‘All cars, this is Control, be on the lookout for an armed suspect, I-C-One female: Agnes Garfield—’

Dildo stared up at him, face the colour of skimmed milk, lips thin and purple. ‘Oh God, you called me “Tim”, I am dying.’

‘Don’t be a dick, you’re not dying.’ Back to the phone. ‘Where’s that bloody ambulance? ’

Logan peeled off his shirt and dumped it in the bathroom sink. Scarlet coils leeched out of the fabric into the cold water. He stuffed the whole thing under the surface, then dumped his socks and trousers in after them. Squelched it all together until the water was nearly scarlet, then drained it off and turned the tap on again. Left them to soak while he climbed into the shower.

Hot water pounded against his back, washing Dildo’s blood down the drain. Soothing the burning in Logan’s stomach.

By the time he was towelling himself dry, his mobile was singing Rennie’s theme tune. He snatched it up and pressed the button. ‘Any word? ’

‘Still in surgery, Guv. Doctors say he’s lucky to get off with a punctured lung – any higher and it would’ve nicked his heart.’

That was something at least. He pulled on a clean shirt, the fabric sticking to his damp back. ‘They find Agnes Garfield? ’

Silence. Then Rennie cleared his throat. ‘You’ve got an appointment with Professional Standards at noon. And Strathclyde are going to do the independent review. You know, as they’re up here anyway.’

‘And Steel couldn’t be bothered to tell me herself.’

‘She’s . . . kinda pissed-off at the moment. Last time I went past her office, sounded like she was battering the crap out of everything with a sledgehammer.’

Wonderful. Because today wasn’t bad enough already.