Along with her work at the Ink Parlour and her part-time position at the Harley-Davidson shop, Ellie had taken on a bar job at the Rock Cafe three nights a week, she’d said to help her save for a new bike.

If McNab wanted to see her tonight, that was where he had to go.

The platform was quiet, and when the train arrived it was almost empty. Despite the vacant seats, McNab chose as usual to remain standing next to the door, a habit of his, acquired when he’d joined the force. That and the inevitable scan of the passengers, always on the lookout for recognizable faces.

Emerging at St Enoch’s, he walked west, the dreary and incessant drizzle speeding him along Argyle Street, keen now to get inside the Rock Cafe. Passing Pizza Hut, he was almost drawn in by the smell, his stomach groaning with hunger.

Crossing the road at the Celtic shop, he noted a guy in a sleeping bag propped at the foot of the steps that led into House of Fraser. A quick scan of the face told McNab he too was an unknown. Not that he could know every face that haunted the streets of inner Glasgow, looking for a sub for life’s necessities or a bed for the night.

By the time he’d entered the tunnel that ran under the glassed edifice of Glasgow Central station, he’d passed two more guys with the same hopes and the same cry of ‘Any small change, pal?’

McNab, like most Glaswegians, hadn’t grown immune to the ravages of fate on his fellow men and women, but still he had no desire to provide the Sandman and his associates with a steady income stream.

Pushing open the bar door, he stepped inside, meeting a wall of music and warmth. Easing his way through the chattering clientele, he headed downstairs, where a surprising rush of emotion hit him as he caught sight of Ellie behind the bar, laughing at some comment a punter had just made to her.

The top she wore showed off a lot of her artwork, and McNab marvelled again at the inked glory of intricacy and colour. Noting the punter who’d shared a joke didn’t look intent on leaving his spot at the bar, McNab decided it was time to encourage him to do so.

Ellie turned as he approached and gave him what he interpreted as a what the hell are you doing here? look.

‘When’s your break?’ McNab said, elbowing his way past her latest admirer.

‘I could take five minutes now,’ Ellie offered, obviously perturbed by McNab’s intense expression.

McNab motioned her out from behind the bar and, taking her hand, led her away.

‘Where are we going?’ she said with a laugh, sensing now he was up to something.

‘I’m rescuing you from the arse at the bar.’

‘I don’t need to be rescued,’ Ellie protested.