‘You’re too useful at bringing in bodies,’ Moira told her, over morning cappuccinos in a noisy café just off Byres Road in the West End. ‘There’s no greater impediment to career mobility in this line than making yourself invaluable at a particular task. If I was in Sunderland’s shoes, I must confess, I wouldn’t have given you my vote for this either. Your conviction rate has an impact on the stats that no chief super is going to be selfless enough to sacrifice. Catherine, believe me, the brass know your worth. In fact, among the senior officers, your ability to spot a murderer runs a fine line between earning admiration and creeping them out.’

‘Thanks,’ Catherine told her. ‘That really makes me feel better.’

‘It’s the truth, hen.’

‘I know. So now we’ve got the sugar-coated bollocks out of the way, do you want to tell me the real reason?’

Moira had taken a sip of coffee and nodded, an ironic smile acknowledging that she’d been nailed.

‘You wanted it too much,’ she stated, her eyes meeting Catherine’s unflinchingly, which told her not only that Moira agreed with this assessment, but that she suspected Catherine would too. ‘That’s the feeling. It made them uncomfortable. You hate these people, Cath: the Stevie Fullertons of this world, the Frankie Callahans, the Paddy Steels. Don’t pretend otherwise, and don’t kid yourself that it doesn’t go unnoticed. The brass know what you’re good at and they know how you operate. They were worried that you’d be happy to keep bringing in heads when you’re dealing with a hydra. They want to construct an anatomy of the monster. Supply, distribution, revenue collation, where the money goes next, how it’s laundered, how the deals can go down without money or goods ever seeming to change hands. To do that, there might have to be some unpalatable compromises.’

Moira didn’t need to spell it out any further. Catherine could see clearly why she had never had a chance of getting the post.

‘They needed a political animal. Somebody dispassionate and pragmatic.’

‘Abercorn’s young and ambitious,’ Moira confirmed. ‘He’ll be autonomous without going off the reservation; do what he’s told but won’t need his hand held.’

‘A yes man.’

‘More somebody who’s smart enough to know when to give his best impression of a yes man. For dispassionate read “sly”; for pragmatic read “sell his granny”.’