‘I asked her to come to my place, but she won’t leave the farm. PC Tulloch’s stationed at the house with her. There’s something else,’ he said. ‘McNab didn’t know that Mark Sylvester was dead.’

What would McNab do with that news? Probably something rash was Rhona’s immediate thought.

‘Can I get in touch with him?’ she said, keen now to hear his voice. And to convince him not to take any more chances.

‘He called me from Mark’s landline. I tried calling him back this morning, but it was engaged. When I tried again, it just rang out, so it’s likely McNab’s gone from there.’

‘Gone where?’ Rhona said.

Magnus had no idea.

‘Does Bill know all of this?’

‘He does now,’ Magnus said.

There was no telling what McNab would do in such circumstances, except that it probably wouldn’t be what they thought. Stuck in London with no money or mobile phone, and no means of getting home, unless he presented himself at a police station.

Which he didn’t appear keen to do.

After Magnus rang off, promising to get back to her were there any further developments, Rhona saved the number he’d given her for Mark’s flat.

McNab had gone there after his escape from his captors. Why? Because he’d hoped Mark would help him? Do what exactly?

He’s not ready to come back, she thought. And Mark’s death won’t have changed that. Not one little bit.

62

McNab had thought the early call to the landline would be from Magnus, Rhona or the boss. It hadn’t been. When he’d picked up, it was the Kommandant’s voice he’d heard.

‘I told you to fuck off back to Glasgow, Jock. They know where you are. So get the fuck out of there. Now.’

McNab had done exactly that.

Saying a silent thank you to Mark for what he’d taken from his house, he also made him a solemn promise that he wouldn’t give up until he’d nailed the bastards.

The pawn shop he’d identified online was in the business of turning a wide variety of everyday items into cash. There had been a few, apparently made famous by some TV programme, that were looking for yuppie stuff like designer handbags, gold, jewellery and artwork.

In truth, Mark had a few paintings that McNab thought might be worth a bit, but he’d stuck to stuff he could easily carry. After this was over, he would try to replace them, he’d told Mark silently, while aware now that Mark was in no position to complain and most likely was cheering him on in what he was about to do.