– Ah, not so good, but it’s fun, right? You got the 1968 water jets?

Rab looks to the Triads who appear a touch confused – then back to his wife in approval.

– Yes, the water jets – it’s fibreglass, top of the range, best money can buy.

The younger man steps forward.

– Easy! I was just saying, it’s nice what you’ve done with the place. Also, someone’s left a bubble bath through there. Please do not interrupt your plans for us, ladies – I presume it’s for one of you?

The older man assesses Bee with a sneer, which annoys Davey.

– Dinnae gie it the big yin, fuckpus, she’s just making conversation.

The older Triad looks at him.

– Can you not speak English, Mr Zebra?

– I uhmnay English, pal.

The taller man smiles. Davey keeps his hand close enough to take out the gun stuffed down the back of his own trousers.

– No, please! Gentlemen. We know! I’m just fucking with you, Mr Wolf, Mr Zebra… We love yer radge gadge, uhm urnay, ye urr, it’s – expressive!

He fist-pumps the air like an excitable amateur-dramatics student.

Ali’s eyes blaze under his wolf mask.

– A sense of humour costs nothing, gentlemen. It is just a joke.

– Ma language isnae a fucking joke, Davey says.

– No.

– It’s one ay the auldest in the world, Ali adds.

– Quite.

– We’re no in the casual witty-banter trade, it’s true, Rab states.

– What trade are you in then, Mr Ram?

– Lately it’s been murder mostly. What can you do, trends change, we must move with the times.

– I see.

– We like to keep it simple.

– Always a good business plan.

The smaller man folds his hands and waits.

– We want Dora Noyce’s girl back, alive and walking, talking, in fair fettle, Ali says.

– Ah.

– Is that gonnae be a problem?

– Yes.

– Why?

– We don’t know where she is and to be fair even if we did, this is not your part of town, Mr Wolf.

Bee steps forward. There is only one indication that her temper is rising: when her speech takes on an exceptionally – steady, posher tone.

– It’s all – our part of town.

– That’s a load ay shite – as you would say – in yer non-English chit-chat.

– We dinnae speak non-anyhin uhn you boys huv only been here fir two months, so dinnaespraff shite. We know the history of every Triad gang in this city going all the way back to 1952 and you urnay part of any of the Triads who came before you. In fact, it’s proving to be a bit of a mystery tae everyone in town why you are still claiming that title as yer privilege and protection… no?

– Go home, Mrs Fox.

– That is not very polite.

– Nobody wants to see a lady get hurt.

– Oh? D’ye think I might – break a fingernail?