Gilmour shook his head. “Look, it’s all pretty straightforward.” He rested his elbows on the table, so that the lawyer had to move the notebook a little. “I’d heard that the Solicitor General was hoping to reopen an old case, one that involved both Billy Saunders and the CID unit I happened to run at the time. The mishandling of that investigation had led me to resign from the force. Stands to reason the Yes campaign would want to tar me—don’t think they’ve not got people of their own trying to dig up dirt on me.” Another glance in Fox’s direction, accompanied by the licking of dry lips. “We all know the Solicitor General’s leanings, and her camp know they’re way behind in the polls…”

“You’re saying this is all politically motivated?”

“Why else would it be coming up now?”

“Because the double jeopardy law has changed.”

“And you don’t think the timing of that is pretty convenient? Macari rushed that legislation through specifically so she could have a go at me—a blind man could see it!” Gilmour sat back in his chair so violently that it creaked a complaint.

“Did you bring any of this up with William Saunders?” Clarke asked.

Gilmour ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “I just asked him what he was going to say to Macari’s inquiry.”

“And?”

“And nothing—he ended the call right there.”

“You didn’t threaten him?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Or offer an inducement of any kind?”

“Don’t answer that,” the lawyer drawled. Traquair stopped writing and beamed a professional smile across the table. “My client has told you the extent of his conversation with William Saunders. He has cooperated fully with you. I don’t see that this dialogue need continue any further.”

“Did you meet him, Mr. Gilmour?” Clarke was asking.

“Really, DI Clarke, I must insist…” Traquair had placed a hand on his client’s forearm, as if to warn him against answering.

“I want the name of that firm of investigators,” Clarke went on. “I want to hear from them that all you got was a phone number.”

“Any objection?” Traquair asked Gilmour.

“No,” Gilmour said, staring hard at Clarke. Then: “Will John Rebus merit the same treatment? Dragged here in a squad car, with the media primed and ready? How about Blantyre and Paterson? Or am I the only one that’ll help you get your face on TV, DI Clarke?”

“We’ll need contact details for those snoopers,” Clarke said to the lawyer, as she rose to her feet. “And they’ll need to be told they can speak to us—no ‘client privilege’ smokescreen.”

“Understood,” Traquair said, closing his notebook and beginning to screw the top back on his fat black pen.

“This firm of investigators,” Fox interrupted. “Ever used them to dig dirt on the Yes campaign?”

Gilmour just glowered, as did his lawyer.