Page 47 of Savage Protector

“They both live with their parents in Greenock. Iftikar works at the docks in Port of Glasgow. He’s a warehouseman, with a handy sideline in counterfeit tobacco.”

“Oh. You went that deep, then?”

“He’s an amateur and not a big cog. Sloppy. I’m surprised the border authorities haven’t lifted him already. Or, more likely, the big lads he works for haven’t rumbled him and got rid.”

“Well, his luck just ran out. What about the other one?”

“Mehrban works in one of those high-end barbershops. No sign of illicit goings-on there as far as I can tell. He’s a stylist, and apparently quite a good one.”

“The brains of the family, it would seem. What’s their daily routine?”

“Iftikar’s supposed to clock on at six-thirty in the morning. He’s on time, mostly. Leaves the house at quarter to and drives to the docks.”

“What about?—?”

“His car? Twenty twenty-three Toyota Vision. In silver-grey.”

I let out a low whistle. “Expensive.”

“At least fifty grand. Counterfeit ciggies obviously pay well, even if you are at the bottom of the heap. I must mention that to my husband, and my brother. Still, the fool would do better to at least try not to draw attention to himself.”

“Yeah, well, it won’t be a problem for long. What about the other one?”

“Not such regular hours. He tends to get in at around ten, finish around four. He drives a twenty twenty Hyundai Tucson, in red.”

“Not so flashy, then. Can you send me the registration numbers. It would be a pity to target the wrong vehicle.”

“On its way. I’ll dig out some more details over the next couple of days.”

“Great. Also, could you acquire me a staff pass for the University of Edinburgh Medical School. I think security would be fitting.”

“Yeah, I can do that. It should be with you later today.”

“Thanks. I appreciate this, Casey.”

“You’re welcome, it gives me something to do. And Ethan said to help you all I can.”

“Thank him, too, will you?”

“Sure. That all for now?”

“Yes.” I signal to turn into the huge iron gate onto the Caernbro Ghyll property. “See you soon.”

I lug the black bag up the stairs to my studio apartment, not at all convinced she’ll still be there. It might not be a bad thing if Ruth has scooped her up and taken her down to the games room or something, though I do find it hard to imagine Leila playingFortnite.

I’m wrong. She’s there, in my apartment, perched by the window, looking out. She turns to regard me.

“I thought it was you. In the black car.”

“I got your stuff.” I dump the bag on a chair. “There should be room in the wardrobe, and you can use that table over there as a desk. Or you could use the lounge downstairs if you fancy a change of scene. It’s usually quiet.”

“Here’s fine. Can I move the table over here, to the window?”

“Sure. Do you want me to do that now?”

She shakes her head. “I can do it later. Did you say I could get food from the kitchen?”

“Are you hungry?”

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