Even his now-inevitable late arrival couldn’t douse McNab’s high spirits. He’d already called Janice and told her of the success of Clean It! She’d listened in obvious amused silence, then reminded him he therefore owed her big time, which McNab had agreed with.

‘And don’t mess Darren around. You’re not the only one who needs him in their life,’ she’d told him.

‘What day does he come to you?’ McNab had immediately asked. ‘Don’t want to interfere with your arrangements.’

‘You had better not. And it’s a Tuesday.’

After the discussion of their domestic arrangements, McNab had explained he was headed to the hospital where Harry McArthur was due to be discharged.

‘I’ve found him a room,’ McNab had said before Janice could ask. ‘In a safe house.’

‘So he has something to tell us?’ She’d sounded interested.

‘He has,’ McNab had said. ‘But he’s not ready yet.’

‘When will he be?’

‘Soon,’ McNab had promised. ‘Any luck locating Malky’s whereabouts?’

‘He’s dropped off the face of the earth, apparently.’

‘Worried we will find a way of charging him.’

‘We could if your man gave us a statement to that effect.’

McNab had chosen to ignore the obvious dig. ‘What about the knife?’

‘The area between his usual spot on Argyle Street and the alley has been thoroughly searched, including the drains. No sign of it. Malky will have got rid of it far from the scene of crime or else hung on to it, for future jobs. Probably had his name carved on the handle like Glasgow villains of old.’

McNab had brought the fanciful musings of DS Clark to an end by ringing off, keen as he was not to be questioned more closely about where he planned to stash Harry. If all went well and according to plan, Harry would be at Ellie’s a week at most, then social services could step in and they’d be welcome to him.

Making his way through the already-busy thoroughfare of the giant hospital, McNab entered the lift. Emerging on his requested floor, he headed for Harry’s ward. Shifts had changed in the interim and he was presented with a face on the desk he didn’t recognize.

Showing his ID, he introduced himself and explained he was here to collect Harry McArthur. The nurse gave his ID a cursory glance then went on her computer for what felt like five minutes.

‘Mr McArthur’s downstairs in the discharge lounge.’

‘The arrangement was that I pick him up from the ward at nine o’clock,’ McNab said.

The nurse made a point of checking her watch, knowing it was well past that now. ‘His bed was required first thing, so we moved him to the discharge lounge. You can pick him up from there.’

‘Is there an officer with him?’

The nurse shot him a look of confusion. ‘I thought you were the officer.’