‘Kenny Mitchell, put that glass down!’ Holly screamed. The girl had spirit, that was for sure. But neither Kenny Mitchell nor his buddy who had flown to Baird’s aid were inclined to back down. They advanced another few steps towards the bar, ready to rush Ben both at once. The usual routine. Their strategy, crude but theoretically effective, would be to come at him in a pincer movement and overwhelm him with a furious barrage of blows. Once he was on the floor, it would be game over.

That was the idea, at any rate. But what made this situation a little trickier was the broken glass in Kenny Mitchell’s hand. He looked fairly serious about using it, and getting glassed on his first day in Scotland wasn’t Ben’s idea of a fruitful trip. This would have to be dealt with in an appropriate fashion.

He said, ‘Sorry about the mess, Holly.’

She looked at him. ‘What mess?’

At that moment the pair came charging in. Mitchell on Ben’s right, brandishing the glass like a dagger, and his pal on Ben’s left, with his fists balled and teeth bared. Ben used the leverage on Baird’s arm to force him to his feet and propel all two hundred and fifty pounds of him into the guy on the left. The impact sounded like two rugby players slamming full pelt into one another. Baird was heavier, and the other toppled backwards with the crushing weight sending him sprawling into the round table. The table capsized and glassware and beer flew everywhere. Their friends, who until that moment had remained seated, now all jumped up, but nobody else looked ready to join the fight.

Which left all of Ben’s attention focused on the more serious matter of Kenny Mitchell, who was still in mid-charge with the intention of slashing him open with the jagged shards of his pint glass.

Ben had about half a second to consider his tactical options. For him, half a second was like half an hour. He could have made a detailed list of all the ways he could permanently disable this idiot and make him eat the damn glass before Mitchell even knew what was happening. None of which were acceptable options. Ben hadn’t come here to make friends, but he hadn’t come here to kill anyone either. Not unless he truly had to. And getting arrested for assault wasn’t going to serve his cause too well either.