‘Bollocks. There was nothing wrong with that bust. The t’s were crossed and the i’s all dotted. That decision wasn’t taken regarding the likelihood of securing a conviction. It was political. Why did you drop it?’

He took a long draw on his fag, staring out at the rain, acting like this was becoming a bore, but she could tell it was because he didn’t want to look her in the eye.

‘It’s not at my discretion to say,’ he finally told her.

Catherine responded with a small shrug and a growing silence, making out she was resigned to leaving it there. She wasn’t, however. He was going to tell her more, because she knew just which button to press.

‘That’s as may be,’ she said with a sigh, ‘but if you don’t give me something, I’m going to have to conclude that it’s not entirely unrelated to the fact that Gary Fleeting and Frankie Callahan are both clients of your father.’

‘Oh piss off,’ he replied sourly. ‘My dad has represented just about every gangster in Glasgow at one time or other. Hardly an astronomical coincidence.’

‘Aye, but this is the first time one of his clients was being prosecuted by his son. All of a sudden the charges disappear. I’m not saying there was anything improper: I’m sure your side got something from the deal. I’m just surprised you—’

‘You’ve no idea what you’re talking about,’ he interrupted curtly. ‘You’ve some fucking nerve as well, considering all the pressure was coming from your end.’

Catherine’s satisfaction at having procured a response was utterly swamped by her dismay at what it told her.

‘My end? Someone in the police brought pressure to drop the case? Who?’

He gave the slightest shake of his head, its subtlety inversely proportional to its gravity.

‘It wasn’t my decision.’

‘Not your decision? I thought you were prosecuting it.’

‘So did I. But you’re right. All of a sudden the whole thing went political and it was out of my hands.’

‘Who brought the pressure, Dominic?’ she pushed again.

‘I’m not supposed to know, and I’m sure as hell not supposed to say.’

He did know though, and he clearly wanted to say. He looked as pissed off about it as she was. Unfortunately, his fag was almost down to the stub and both their court cases were starting in a couple of minutes.

‘Come on,’ she urged, putting a hand on his forearm. ‘We’re on the same side here. If I’m going after Frankie Callahan, it would benefit both of us if I knew who might be tying my shoelaces together while I’m not looking.’

His eyes flashed angrily.

‘You don’t need to give me the motivational speech. I had pricks like that ruffling my hair when I was growing up.’