During his twenty-year career in Glasgow with a Scottish Sunday newspaper, Craig Robertson interviewed three Prime Ministers and attended major stories including 9/11, Dunblane, the Omagh bombing and the disappearance of Madeleine McCann. He was pilloried on breakfast television, beat Oprah Winfrey to a major scoop, spent time on Death Row in the USA and dispensed polio drops in the backstreets of India. His debut novel, Random, was shortlisted for the CWA New Blood Dagger and was a Sunday Times bestseller.
Also by Craig Robertson
The Last Refuge
Witness the Dead
Cold Grave
Snapshot
Random
First published in Great Britain by Simon & Schuster UK Ltd, 2015
A CBS company
Copyright © Craig Robertson, 2015
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To my much-loved grandmother,
Mary Robertson 1915–2015
This city is what it is because our citizens are what they are.
Plato
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 1
23 October, Glasgow, Friday night
Remy Feeks always felt his heart beat a wee bit faster when he took that first step. It didn’t matter whether it was up a ladder, through a fence or into a tunnel like now. The first step was the no-going-back step. It was the one that meant it had begun.
It didn’t mean he was scared. He was but it wasn’t that. Not just that. A little bit of fear was natural anyway. Sensible, too. Going into the unknown was supposed to be frightening. And thrilling. Exhilarating. Liberating. All those things and more. It was why he did what he did.
He shuffled down the bank until he stood in the water, feeling the pinch of cold even through the toes of his waders. Standing still for a few moments, he enjoyed the anticipation and tried to get his head round it. He was going to walk back in time, nearly one hundred and fifty years, deep into the heart of old Glasgow. It was a walk that only maybe a handful of people had ever done. And the good bit, the great bit, was that he couldn’t be sure where he’d end up. Or even if he’d come out at the other end.
Deep breath. First step. Heart thumping. Go.
He stepped into the tunnel, the Molendinar Burn at his feet and Victorian Glasgow somewhere in front of him. Man, this was going to be awesome.
With just one step, the city was above his head, out of sight and almost out of mind. Or maybe he was out of his. He laughed, knowing full well how crazy some people would think he was. The chances were they were right but being their kind of sane was a hell of a boring life.