‘Yes. He told me there was this guy, didn’t name him or anything. Said he worked for his daddy. Said he found out that he was going to kill this guy, Boyle, and tried to stop him. Daddy’s instructions. Now, he didn’t like that. Didn’t like that one little bit. So he and two of his boys battered fuck out of him. Said they made him scream and scream like a stuck pig. He was crying for his mother. They cut his throat and then dumped him in a bin. Said they just threw some rubbish away.’

‘When did you report this conversation to the authorities?’

‘I thought about it for a while. Few hours probably. I decided this was too heavy for me. I told one of the screws in the unit. Just enough to get him interested. Next day the police came to see me.’

The Advocate Depute sat down and Muirhead rose to crossexamine. The temperature had dropped markedly. A chill wind had just blown through the court. Thus far, he felt that most of the members of the jury were on his side, apart from one individual he had already noted. Now the jury were puzzled. Clearly they had not expected to hear such evidence. One or two were staring at the dock – wondering. Just the first hint of hostility perhaps?

Even before the witness had come into court, Muirhead had decided that attack would be the best form of defence. Having seen and heard the evidence, he saw no reason to change the plan.

‘What do you expect to get out of this?’

‘Meaning what?’

‘Meaning, what do you expect to get out of this?’

‘Nothing from you, that’s for sure.’

‘Then, what do you expect to get from the authorities?’

‘The same. Nothing.’

‘Then, what do you hope to get?’

‘Watch my lips – nothing.’

Warwick spat out the last word. He was once again clenching the front of the witness box. White-knuckled, he was leaning forward thrusting his head towards Muirhead. He was ready for the battle ahead.

‘You gave a statement to the police?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you ask for anything in return? A favour perhaps?’

‘No way.’

‘No way. I see. When you gave the statement, you were awaiting trial and indeed you are still awaiting trial?’

‘Yes.’ Cautious. A hint of suspicion. Muirhead’s tone was light, almost conversational.

‘You are English, I believe.’

‘And proud of it.’

‘Indeed. Indeed. Ever been in prison in England?’

‘Wait a minute. I’m not on trial here. What I’ve done or not done in the past has got nothing to do with this. You’ve no right to pry. Are you going to let him get away with this? I thought you were on my side?’

The Advocate Depute, to whom the question was directed, remained impassive and immovable.

It was Lord Cowden who intervened.

‘Mr Muirhead’s question is a fair one: just answer it.’