He shook his head. ‘No, I still have the Dishonourables to deal with. That part, I’ll handle alone.’

‘It’s messy as hell,’ Grace said.

‘Those are the cards we’ve been dealt. It’s the only way to play them.’

‘And dangerous.’

Ben nodded. ‘Yes. It is. For everyone. But especially for them.’

Grace sighed. ‘So what now?’

‘Now we have until one o’clock to get to Kinlochardaich and put this in motion.’

Chapter 48

As the dawn eventually began to break, the reds and golds and purples of the rising sun appeared like a distant firestorm over the hills. Another mile; then another. No houses, no cottages, no farms. Ben began to wonder if he should have turned right after dumping the car. Grace was saying nothing, strolling quietly beside him with cheeks as red as apples from the cold – but he sensed she was thinking the same thing.

They kept walking. Still nothing. The morning was crisp and beautiful. The kind of morning that should fill a person’s heart with joy and make them feel that all was well with the world. If only it had been. Time was slipping by too quickly. They now had just three hours before Ben’s rendezvous with Stuart.

Then, just as it seemed the empty wilderness would go on for ever, they came across the farm at the bottom of its own long dirt track.

More correctly, it was a rural property that had once been a farm, back in the days before it had become a semi-ruin. The house’s stone walls were mossy and many of the panes in its rotted window frames were broken. It stood in a cracked concrete yard surrounded by outbuildings in an even more neglected state. The place appeared as if it had been uninhabited for the last thirty years, except for the two cars parked out front: one a rough old Mazda estate, the other a VW with one headlight missing and rust holes big enough to stick your fist through.

‘You think anyone’s at home?’ Grace said.

‘Let’s find out.’

Ben was carrying enough cash to buy both bangers. But he needed only one, and had already set his sights on the Mazda as he went to knock on the farmhouse door. Not everyone was happy to sell a car to a total stranger, but it was amazing what a smiling face and a fat handful of crisp banknotes could do.

Nobody answered the door, so Ben pounded harder. After about a dozen hard thumps he heard footsteps and someone yelling, ‘All right, I’m comin’, I’m comin’!’ The lock rattled and the door creaked open a few inches, and the gaunt face of a skinny middle-aged guy with a shaven head peered through the gap. He said in a slurry voice, ‘Aye? Jonesy, is that you?’