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When she buzzed, McNab let her in without speaking. Climbing the stairs, Rhona tried to work out what she would say to persuade him into the best course of action. Revealing the fact that Kearney had tried to kill him could be in McNab’s favour and would go some way to compensate for his less than wise decisions in the Stonewarrior case. But taking advice was not McNab’s strong point.

She composed herself before ringing the doorbell. She would remain calm. She would not argue. That never worked. She would reason with him instead. The first ring wasn’t answered, so she pressed the bell again. When that too went unanswered, she knocked.

At last she heard approaching footsteps and braced herself. Those first few moments when she and McNab met eye to eye could determine the entire encounter.

The door opened.

It took less than a second for her to realize that it hadn’t been opened by McNab. But less than a second was not enough for her to escape.

She was dragged inside and a hand placed over her mouth. The stink of male sweat, cigarettes and alcohol was overwhelming. Mingled with urine, it brought tears to her eyes.

The two hooded figures dragged her through to the sitting room. Above the hand she spied a third, watching her entrance.

‘Who the fuck is she?’ He looked peeved.

Rhona tried to mouth words into the hand.

‘Let her talk.’

‘She might scream.’

The point of a blade poked into her neck.

‘No fucking screaming, bitch,’ the one in view ordered. He was taller than her captors. Thin as a rake, his cheekbones stood out at sharp angles. The sunken eyes were bright with some substance or other, and righteous indignation.

‘Who the fuck are you?’

Rhona shook off their hands and cleared her throat. ‘I’m a police officer,’ she lied.

The rake regarded her with some consternation. ‘You live here?’

Rhona wasn’t sure what the right answer should be. If they were looking for McNab, then telling them she lived here wouldn’t work. And, as far as she knew, they would have found no female clothes during their more than obvious search.

She took a calculated guess. ‘If you’re looking for the holdall, it’s not here.’

That stopped his muddled thoughts in their tracks. Then a glint appeared in his already bright eyes.

‘So you know about the holdall?’

I just made a big mistake, Rhona thought. ‘We have it at the station,’ she tried.

‘No you don’t.’ He approached her, bringing with him a heinous mix of stale cigarettes, dope, alcohol and body sweat. He shoved his face in hers, adding rotten breath to the mix.

‘No you don’t. The pig who lives here dug it up and kept it for himself.’

Rhona waited until he withdrew his face a little before opening her mouth to answer.

‘It’s at the station. I’ve seen it.’

The slap came from nowhere and met her cheek in a stinging blow, the force of it sending her staggering sideways. As she strove to recover her footing, the knife point prodded her neck again. She had an immediate image of how close it was to a fatal puncture zone. He did too, and smiled to emphasize the fact.

‘You’re going to call the pig and tell him to get here fast with the holdall or I’m going to practise noughts and crosses on your neck.’

‘Okay.’ Rhona agreed because the last thing she wanted was for McNab to appear on the premises unprepared. She indicated she planned to get her mobile from her pocket. On the two most recent occasions McNab had called, it had been from different numbers. God knew if he would respond to either of them. She tried the most recent number first. It rang out unanswered.

The guy in charge swore loudly.

‘If he’s driving, he won’t answer,’ Rhona said. ‘I’ll have to text or leave a voice message.’

He grabbed the mobile and listened to the standard ‘leave a message’ in a female robotic voice.

‘We’ve got your girlfriend. Bring the holdall home now or I slit her throat.’ He thrust the mobile in Rhona’s face. ‘Speak.’

‘McNab, it’s me.’

He stabbed at her neck and she cried out in pain. He cut off the call and threw the mobile across the room. It skittered out the door. He pushed her onto the couch and told her to keep quiet or he’d mark her face.

Rhona did as bid. Now the initial skirmish was at an end, she took time to survey the room. Every possible hiding place had been raided in their search for the holdall. They’d even found McNab’s stash of booze and were in the process of consuming a bottle each of whisky and vodka. The whisky was a single malt, the vodka a premiere Russian brand. McNab would be well pissed off.

Rhona considered her predicament and what she might do about it. Her mobile was out of reach, so no opportunity to make an emergency call unless the trio drank themselves into oblivion. Unlikely, unless they topped up the alcohol with some other substance.

When the thin guy had threatened her neck, his exposed arm had shown needle tracks. She wondered how long before he needed to shoot up again and whether he’d brought the gear with him, or had relied on finding the holdall.

He caught her swift gaze before she looked away.

‘Fucking boring waiting here. Maybe we should have a little fun to pass the time.’ He came towards her, the grin exposing teeth made in hell.

Rhona swore under her breath. Where the hell was McNab when you needed him?