Fallan pressed the end of the silencer into a fleshy part of McDade’s thigh.

‘Don’t tempt me. We know you were there when the Ramsays were killed. We know Dominic Wilson was born Charlie Ramsay. We know you brought the baby to your pal Ruaraidh. We know you’re his goto guy on this, the guy he phoned when Jim called up asking awkward questions. Wilson told us all this himself, so get the pedal to the metal.’

McDade gave a quivering sigh, fear, anger, shock and resignation all readable in his response. He put the van into gear and began to drive.

‘Aye, I suppose you’re wondering why Wilson didn’t call you after we came asking awkward questions. Couple of reasons, really. He didn’t know he was effectively ordering a hit when he phoned you about Jim. More importantly, though, he understood he had nothing to fear, because we’re not hell-bent on dropping him in it. Or you, necessarily.’

McDade shot Fallan a guardedly curious look, then returned his eyes to the road.

‘How so?’ he asked, accelerating up a slip road on to the M77.

‘Because we’re not here looking for justice. A bunch of old men going to jail isn’t going to bring back Jasmine’s uncle Jim.’

‘What?’ Jasmine asked, with vocal shock and heartfelt outrage. ‘This isn’t what we discussed. I bloody well am looking for justice.’

‘You won’t find it, though. It’s a chimera, it’s Peter Pan’s shadow. Even if you can get hold of it, you’ll discover it’s got no substance, and it’s nae use when you’re paying the rent.’

‘So what are we looking for?’ she asked, indignant sarcasm dripping from her emphasis.

‘Compensation,’ he replied, addressing McDade. ‘See, I once read how there’s certain cultures who believe that if you murder a man, your punishment is that his family become your responsibility. It left a profound impression on me. It’s a principle I’ve embraced. When you killed Jim Sharp, you took away not just Jasmine’s uncle, but her livelihood as well.’

‘You want money? So why are we going to the Campsies?’

‘Mutual assurance. See, here’s how it’s gaunny play. There’s a shovel in the back of the van. You’re gaunny take us to where the bodies are buried and you’re gaunny dig them up for verification. They won’t be in the best of nick, but Eilidh Ramsay was wearing an engagement ring with a diamond, a ruby and an emerald set in gold. I’m figuring, what with you all being filth, you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to steal it and put it into circulation, so it should be still there. Jim will be easier to ID, obviously.