She walked purposefully away from the High Court. She knew what she must do. She did not know how, or what the ultimate consequences might be.

‘Jack, have we nothing to throw at this chap?’

‘Only what you know already. I did find out that he has two previous convictions. Unfortunately, they date back a few years and were both for simple possession of drugs. Probably when he was a student. Admonished once, then fined twenty pounds. Hardly makes him a major-league criminal.’

‘Or a dishonest witness. No suggestion at all that he has any connection with the Boyles, for example?’

‘My inquiry agent has dug and dug but come up with nothing. This guy is an ageing hippie, probably smokes a bit of hash. Apart from that he seems to be a genuine eye-witness who...’

‘Yes, I’ve got that bit. I was hoping for just a little assistance. And don’t say, “You’re on your own with that one Mr Muirhead.” Of that fact, I’m well aware.’

‘I remember acting for one of those so-called terrorist chaps in trials some years ago. They took all sorts of bits and pieces from his home. Old Charlie Brewster was my senior. Great chap, old Charlie. Give him two large gins and he would go on for hours about his army days. The way he talked, you would think he had been in every regiment in the British Army. Actually, I suspect he was a cook or something. Anyway, Charlie was running this defence that the client was just a collector of militaria Sat in court day after day shaking his head and striking poses of horror and disbelief every time it was suggested that our man might be involved in anything even vaguely naughty.

‘Well, everything seemed to be going fine until Turnbull, the Strathclyde ballistics chap, came in to give evidence. The Depute handed him Charlie’s man’s collection of militaria, and Turnbull built a bloody sten gun out of it. You should have seen Charlie. He went apoplectic. We got out of court and I started to laugh. Well, it was quite funny. Not the evidence – that was a bit serious. But Charlie’s face – absolutely priceless.

‘Christ, he rounded on me and told me it was all my fault. I had let him make a fool of himself. I should have spotted that this junk could be assembled into a gun. Didn’t follow this myself. Seemed to me that Charlie should have spotted it, what with his vast military experience and all. Maybe they didn’t have sten guns in the catering corps. Unless it was for the squaddies who had to eat old Charlie’s gravy. There you go.’

‘Donald, what the hell are you on about?’

‘Charlie Brewster. You know Charlie...’

‘Of course I bloody know Charlie Brewster. I’ve known him for twenty years. What has all this to do with what might be seen as our present predicament?’

‘I forget. There was some point to it, I think.’