‘I am one of them, in case you forgot.’

‘Then you’d best turn a blind eye to the next part. We’re not done yet.’

‘Oh, I’m getting used to turning a blind eye, Ben Hope. Ever since you came along.’

They left their weapons behind and worked their way back through the castle, scattering bombs as they went until the bag was empty. There was still no sign of Stuart.

Outside, the blizzard had finally died down and only a smattering of flakes was spiralling from the evening sky. Grace stared at the still burning wreckage of the cars. The bodies of the five dead Dishonourables were slowly barbecuing inside, blackened and curled, peeling and hairless. She cupped a hand over her mouth and quickly looked away. ‘Jesus Christ.’

The druggies’ Mazda had been undamaged by the blast and was almost completely covered with a blanket of white. Ben brushed the snow from the windscreen and driver’s window, peered inside and by the flickering light of the fires saw that the key was still in the ignition.

Then he took out the remote detonator trigger.

Boonzie said, ‘Go for it, laddie.’

Ben scrolled through the individual channel selection menu until he came to the one that said SEND ALL. One touch of the button would set off the remaining eighteen RDX charges. The grand finale.

Ben pressed it.

If Charles Stuart was hiding up there somewhere in one of his ivory towers, then too bad for him. Ben, Boonzie and Grace watched as the percussive explosions tore through the castle, shattering a hundred windows with their fiery breath. They watched as the inferno quickly gained a hold of the entire building from one end to the other, and the roof timbers began to collapse inwards, and the fires reached high into the night, and embers fell like glowing snow from the sky. By morning, all that would remain of Stuart’s pride and joy would be a smouldering ruin.

‘That’s that, then,’ Ben said.

‘Time to hit the road,’ Grace reminded him.

‘Yeah, I think you’re right.’

‘My place?’

‘Sounds good.’

The three of them climbed into the Mazda. Ben fired up the engine and lights, got the wipers and heater going, crunched the old car into gear and U-turned around in a snowy courtyard illuminated yellow and orange by the blaze of the castle. He drove out of the gates and they set off.

The goons at the gatehouse were long gone, and the main entrance to the estate had been left hanging wide open as if someone had departed in a hurry. Three sets of tyre tracks were imprinted into the snow, one fresher than the others. Two heading west, the more recent one heading east.

‘You think it’s Stuart?’ Grace asked, frowning.

‘He willnae get far,’ Boonzie said.