“So far so good,” Clarke said under her breath.

“You planning to stay on their tail all the way?”

“Give it another mile or two.”

After which she put her foot down, guiding the Audi into the outside lane and eventually overtaking the van, pulling in between it and the Merc before flooring the accelerator and passing that car, too. The clock said ninety-five as she watched the headlights behind her recede.

“They’re keeping to a steady sixty-five.”

“Don’t want to get pulled over, do they?” Rebus suggested.

A further few miles on, a sign indicated a lay-by. Clarke slowed the Audi to a stop behind an articulated lorry which was parked up for the night. She switched off the headlights and slouched down in her seat, Rebus doing the same as far as he was able. He could feel the sweat on his back, his shirt clinging to him.

“Here they come,” Clarke said, eyes on the wing mirror. Not just the Merc and the van, but a few other vehicles in their wake. It was completely dark now, no chance the Audi could have been clocked, not the speed the convoy was going. Clarke switched her lights on again and got back on the road.

“No shortage of disposal sites between here and there,” she offered.

“He’s not got the experience, Siobhan. Something tells me he’ll stick to what he knows, places he’s been shown or told about.”

Twenty minutes later, they passed a sign telling them the Aviemore spur was just ahead.

“Where it all started,” Siobhan Clarke said.

“I suppose,” Rebus replied, watching as a few flakes of snow began to fall. A couple of cars were signaling to turn left.

“The Merc?” Clarke guessed.

“I’d put money on it—just not necessarily my money.”

But yes, the Merc was turning off, while the van stayed on the A9 and its appointment with a scrapyard or similar.

“We’re sure Magrath’s not trussed up in the back of his own van?” Clarke asked.

“As sure as we can be.”

The Audi followed the Merc, still a couple of other vehicles separating them.

“I think this is working,” Clarke offered. “Insofar as they haven’t spotted us.” All too soon, though, the covering vehicles were peeling off into new-build housing developments, leaving only the Merc and the Audi—fifty yards between them.

“Should I stop and let him get ahead?”

“I don’t know,” Rebus admitted.

“We could overtake and block the route—don’t tell me Magrath won’t be scared rigid by now.”

“Not yet.”

She looked at him again. His eyes were fixed on the Merc, his left hand still gripping the door handle. They were in deepening countryside, heading away from Aviemore into a wilderness of mountain and forest.