Ben threaded the car through the turnings leading them back in the direction of the loch. As they sped along the icy road and the white-capped trees flashed by on either side, he explained, ‘The D stands for a small, select group of individuals. Except you might say that “select” is the wrong word. And you’d be right. They call themselves “the Dishonourables”. Not everyone in that world even believes that they really exist. They’re a legend, almost a myth.’

‘But who are they?’

‘Ex-military,’ Ben said. ‘As their name suggests, their careers didn’t last long, because they didn’t exactly distinguish themselves. Once you get a DD stamp on your record it makes it virtually impossible that you’ll ever be readmitted into any branch of HM Armed Forces, for as long as you live.’

‘DD,’ Grace said. ‘As in “dishonourable discharge”?’

Ben nodded. ‘The army, navy and air force don’t like letting go of people they’ve invested an awful lot of time and effort into training and equipping. Screw up, and there’s no end to the punishments they’ll dish out in the hope that you’ll straighten yourself out. But for the real rotten eggs, there’s no choice but to court-martial them and boot them out as fast and as hard as they can. It’s not a decision they take lightly. Getting a DD can ruin your life. It all but destroys your chances of getting decent civilian work in the future. The lucky few might manage to land okay jobs in the personal security industry. A number of them enlist into other militaries, like the Foreign Legion, who aren’t too fussy about who they take on. Some might sign up as private military contractors and go off to do the mercenary thing, fighting for cash in dirty little wars and putting down rebel insurrections on behalf of nasty tin-pot regimes in places you’ve never even heard of. Others just burn out, become junkies or alcoholics and end up killing themselves. But the Dishonourables went a different path, or so the legend goes.’

He eased the pressure on the gas to let the car roll gently over a large patch of ice. A pale mist was descending that made it hard to distinguish the distant hills from the snow-laden sky. Grace said, ‘I’m listening.’

Ben continued, ‘Nobody knows how they found one another, or who first came up with the idea, or even exactly when it happened. But they discovered a way to turn their badge of disgrace into a mark of virtue, in their way of seeing things, by forming a tightly-knit and loyal band of their own.’

‘How do you know all this?’