They had gathered together for a single purpose, but for a variety of reasons. Some to be able to say they were there when local legend was created – some to watch – some to be seen – and some to watch the watchers.

Many were local residents who were in attendance because they feared their absence would be noted, and in some way commented upon at some future date. Their numbers were swollen by a curious mixture of the leading and lesser lights of Glasgow’s criminal fraternity and officers of the Serious Crime Squad, several of whom were armed. Indeed there was every likelihood that some of the crowd were also armed.

At least it was a simple matter to distinguish between the good guys and the bad guys: the bad guys were more expensively dressed.

The police were watching the villains watching the police watching the villains. Everyone was waiting and becoming colder and more miserable by the minute.

A child’s voice broke the silence. He was instantly grabbed by his mother who held him close lest he make some further comment of a less innocuous nature. Suddenly there was a dramatic increase in the general noise level as the members of the crowd shuffled about trying to get the circulation back into frozen feet and shifting slightly to get the best possible view of the drama which was about to unfold.

Sixty yards away in an unmarked police car, McAllister and Taylor were studying the scene.

‘They’re coming out. Looks like we’re about to get some activity, Bob.’

‘About time, my feet are like lumps of lead.’

‘At least you’re in the dry,’ McAllister responded testily.

Taylor was indifferent to the mild rebuke. If Detective Inspectors did not stand around in the pissing rain, Superintendents had forgotten the pissing rain existed.

‘I hope they’ve got plenty of rolls of film.’

Police photographers had been located at various points in order to compile a complete record of those who braved the elements to be part of this sombre scene.

‘Quite a collection. There’s more previous convictions here than in the Scottish Criminal Records Office. If you locked up the whole bloody lot of them you would cut the crime rate in Glasgow by at least fifty per cent.’

This time McAllister ignored his colleague’s flippancy. Despite being something of an exaggeration, there was a good deal of truth to it and in many respects the sentiments were entirely laudable and shared by the Superintendent.

The two men lapsed into silence and continued watching.