Dougie mustered himself. He would return home as promised. But what of Finn? he thought. Won’t Ava think it odd that he’s not with me?

He contemplated whistling for the dog, then decided against it. Nadia might get freaked or follow Finn out, assuming it was safe and he was summoning her. Better to have an excuse for the missing Finn, he decided.

By the time he reached the house, the police car was parked and the driver already inside. Dougie took a deep breath and, before he could change his mind, opened the door and walked into the kitchen.

41

McNab was still seething when he walked into the Afghan coffee shop. Having just wasted an hour waiting for Cleverly to show up at an agreed location, he was in no mood to be thwarted a second time.

The guy behind the counter listened to his demand with an openly hostile look, which McNab duly returned. He wasn’t the only one in the cafe throwing him dirty looks. In fact, it was a little like walking into a Rangers’ pub wearing a Celtic top on the day of an Old Firm match.

‘Tell Mark McNab’s here to see him. And I’m in a hurry.’

The dark look only got darker. McNab could see where all this was heading and the result would be a refashioning of his face again.

‘Tell him Ava sent me,’ he added as a last resort.

At Ava’s name, something changed. The guy looked less likely to punch him or throw him out. McNab decided to take that line a little further.

‘Tell Mark Ava’s in danger.’

‘Sit down,’ the voice said, gesturing to a nearby table.

Thinking he might be getting somewhere at last, McNab chanced his arm and asked for a coffee, the scent of which had been assailing him since he’d walked in the door.

He duly took a seat, aware that whatever interest the circle of other male customers had had in him had lost its edge. His face, it seemed, wasn’t about to meet another fist.

Five minutes later, the coffee arrived, delivered by counter guy, but with no invitation to come and see Mark. McNab threw another glance at the curtained doorway, which he presumed led to more private accommodation and through which counter guy had gone earlier.

Drinking the remainder of his coffee, he ordered another, which didn’t arrive. In fact, everyone was now doing a fine job of pretending he didn’t exist. Either the journalist was here or he wasn’t, McNab decided, and there was only one way to find out which.

Ava had said he had a room here where he worked and sometimes slept, and to McNab’s eye it had to be beyond that curtain. He rose and made for the Gents just long enough for counter guy to clock him and turn away. Then he made his break.