It took Tony a moment to remember who Martin Kelly was. ‘I don’t know him,’ Tony said. ‘I know of him; I’ve seen him a few times, but we’ve not spoken or anything.’

‘He’s a creep,’ Karen said, instinctively rubbing her upper arm.

‘Is he a dealer?’

Karen nodded.

‘Why is Duggan in with him, then? At home Duggan’s crew would have kneecapped him.’

‘He’s useful,’ Karen said. ‘Besides, whose drugs do you think he’s selling?’

‘For Duggan?’

‘Not for Duggan per se,’ Karen said. ‘But the money he makes, he’s paying a tithe up the chain. Besides, he’s everywhere, meets everyone. No one suspects him because he’s already suspicious.’

‘There’s a logic in there somewhere,’ Tony said.

‘How did you know he was a dealer?’

Tony sensed from the way in which she bristled slightly when she asked the question that she was afraid they had met through a transaction.

‘I met one of the kids I used to teach a while back in Liverpool Betty’s. I thought she was on something. At the end of the evening, I was waiting to use the toilet and when the door opened, Kelly came out zipping himself up and she was getting off her knees with a ten spot in her hand. I’m guessing she didn’t have the tenner on her to pay.’

Karen grimaced at the mental image his story had conjured.

‘He’s a creep,’ she repeated.

They drove back to Glasgow after ten. Tony wanted to check the boot, to see if anything had been placed there, but Karen advised him not to. She’d relaxed throughout dinner, having had a few glasses of wine. At the end of the meal, Tony had paid for them both and she’d not protested or offered to go half, which made him think she saw the evening out as a date. But as he drove, he wondered if she’d allowed him to pay so that it looked like a date, which was, after all, the cover which Duggan had suggested when he asked them to bring the car into Paisley.

The sudden flash of red lights in front of them shook him from his thoughts and he braked as he realised the cars in front of him had stopped. Flicking on the hazard lights, he glanced in the rearview to check that the drivers behind him would see in enough time to stop. The last thing he needed was an impact from behind that might necessitate opening the boot in front of others.

Karen craned in her seat, winding down the window to see what lay ahead.

‘Shit,’ she said, her face blanching. ‘It’s the police.’

Tony felt his stomach turn. ‘What’ll we do?’

Karen gathered herself. He could see she was calming herself, breathing slowly, her hands raised in front of her, as if in placation.

‘If they stop us, we say we borrowed the car from a friend. We didn’t even look in the boot.’

‘They’ll not believe us.’

‘There’s no fingerprints on the boot door,’ she said. ‘None of ours anyway. And no gloves or anything in the car. Are there?’ She twisted in the seat, glancing behind her, then opened the glove box in front of Tony, which was empty.