A large hand thumped down on Logan’s shoulder and squeezed. ‘Trust me when I say: if you ever threaten me or mine again, I’ll have you skinned alive. Understand? For Wee Hamish’s sake, I’ll leave the boy. But see if I get to the man in charge before you do? All bets are off.’

The Transit van rocked as Reuben ground his way through the gears. He pinned his mobile between his little round ear and his huge rounded shoulder. ‘Yeah. . . No, don’t think so. . . Hold on.’ He held the phone out to Logan. ‘Mr Mowat wants a word.’

‘Hello? ’

‘Logan, I hear it went well. Did you sort everything out with the McLeods? ’

‘Simon says he wants to make peace, but you know what will happen if he gets his hands on whoever’s running the rival operation.’

‘They’re primitive people, Logan. They believe in Old Testament vengeance. But Reuben tells me you know who’s stealing the McLeods’ cannabis? ’

‘I know who was stealing it. He’s dead.’

Reuben stuck his foot down and the Transit lumbered across the lights on Westburn Drive. ‘Lucky. Means Creepy can’t get hold of him.’

‘He was tortured to death by his girlfriend.’

‘Really? Now that is fascinating. And you’re sure it was his girlfriend? ’

The lumpy concrete bulk of Aberdeen Royal Infirmary loomed above the surrounding buildings.

‘Who else would it be? ’

‘Ask Reuben.’ A pause. ‘Now, would you do me a favour and put me on speakerphone? ’

Logan frowned at the mobile’s shiny interface, then pressed the bit on the screen that looked like a loudhailer.

Wee Hamish’s voice crackled out of the speaker, only just audible over the Transit’s diesel drone. ‘You know, it does my old heart proud to see the pair of you working together. Logan and Reuben: a team, looking after my city. It gives me a lot of comfort to know it’ll be in good hands when I’m gone. Thank you both.’ Then Wee Hamish hung up.

Logan passed the phone back. ‘He said to ask you who else would’ve tortured Anthony Chung to death.’

‘Did he now. . .’ Reuben took them right onto Westburn Road – next stop Accident and Emergency.

‘What happened to making Wee Hamish proud? ’

A grunt. ‘Think you’re getting off that lightly? You and me: we’re not finished by a long shot.’

Brilliant. So much for bonding over a job well done. Well, half done. Kind of.

Maybe Samantha was right? Maybe the only way Reuben was ever going to go away and leave him alone was at the bottom of a shallow grave? Or banged up for a twenty stint in Barlinnie? Slightly more difficult to arrange, but at least no one would have to die. Who hadn’t died already. . .

‘Who tortured Anthony Chung? ’