‘Identifying the properties on here is a real pain in the arse. You’ve got to cross-refer with the maps and cross-refer again with the records to find out an exact address and whether they’re a customer. You’re talking about thousands of properties. So back in the early days, we’d save it until the summer and get a student in to do it as a holiday job. Summer of’89, the young guy we had in examining the 1988 survey was a right warped individual who happened to notice this.’

McGranahan reached into a drawer below the desk and produced a huge magnifier, the glass inset on plastic runners for sliding back and forth. He placed it over a section of one of the strips and stepped back to let them view it. In the centre, Jasmine could see a grid of tiny white vertical lines, set in six or seven long horizontal rows.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

McGranahan gave her a wicked grin.

‘The Necropolis.’

The Biggest Gang in Glasgow

‘I imagine I’d be underselling it if I said you could probably do with a drink,’ ventured Sunderland.

He was waiting outside her office when she got back from being checked out by Samira Arora, the police casualty surgeon. It was purely procedure, a cursory once-over that would normally have been carried out by the station’s first-aid officer, but Samira was in the building anyway, and everybody was in a bit of a froth. The only injury Catherine had sustained in the shooting was a bruise to the elbow where she’d rattled it off the handbrake when she dived for cover.

‘I’m okay,’ she said, the shock having passed and long since been replaced by outrage.

‘Yeah,’ Sunderland mused. ‘I was okay after getting shot at as well; bank robbery back in ninety-seven. Next day somebody tapped me on the shoulder in a queue at the supermarket and within seconds I had them in an armlock, pinned to the floor. It was a sixty-five-year-old woman who was trying to tell me another till had opened up. I don’t know what Samira said, but I’m prescribing you a pint for relief of post-traumatic stress.’

‘I think Laura’s in more need of some TLC than I am. Why don’t you ask her?’

‘I already did. She’s coming too, as soon as the doc’s finished with her.’

‘I’m not going anywhere until they bring in that bastard Fallan, which I can’t believe hasn’t happened by now. Christ, how hard can it be? We know where he’s staying and we know what he’s driving.’

‘Not going to happen,’ Sunderland said flatly. ‘He hasn’t been found because your orders were countermanded. By me,’ he added, folding his arms.

‘Countermanded? Why?’

‘That information is strictly on a need-to-be-drinking basis. Come on, get your coat. It’s not as if you’re driving, is it?’

*   *   *