‘I’ll ask, love. But don’t get your hopes up. Is this because of the body in the old Odeon then?’

She laughed. ‘Do you actually know everything?’

‘Naw, love. Just most things. And I’m good at guessing.’

‘That was no guess. You think there’s some urbexing connection between the Molendinar and the cinema site?’

‘Rachel, I’ve no real idea. You’ve got the facts there, you’ll know better than me. I’ve just got suppositions and an old copper’s nose.’

‘And what’s that telling you?’

‘Not to trust coincidences. I’d say it’s definitely worth looking at. And so do you or you wouldn’t have phoned me about it.’

‘It occurred to me when I was in the Odeon but it still seemed a stretch. Now I’m more inclined to think it’s the key. Thanks, Danny. Ask your pal for me, will you?’

‘I’ll ask. But don’t expect a yes.’

She finished the call and turned back to the laptop. OtherWorld. That’s exactly how it was to her but she had to step into it. She had to learn everything she could.

Winter sat and looked at the laptop in front of him, his fingers drumming distractedly on the keyboard. He hesitated, wary of clicking on the search result that had popped up in front of him. As if there would be no going back. As if it would open the door that he’d promised himself to leave closed.

He stared hard at the screen, wishing some other answer to show itself. The option was to close the lid. He knew that was probably the sensible thing to do. The thing that Rachel would want him to do. If she knew. Holy shit, it was just as well that she didn’t.

The room was silent and the only noise came from the street outside; cars driving up and down Berkeley Street, and the comings and goings from the Mitchell Library opposite. His right index finger hovered above the enter button. All he had to do was press.

OtherWorld. It didn’t seem that scary in itself. Just a word.

Stuff this, he told himself. Do it or don’t. His finger was down before he could stop himself and the screen shifted.

The layout had changed since the last time he’d visited. Hardly surprising really: most forums got a makeover every now and again and it had been four, no five years since he’d dipped in. There was a lot familiar about it though. Seemed to be the same old subject categories for a start. High places, military sites, hospitals, asylums, cinemas, underground sites, quarries. It was all there, all you had to do was explore it.

He sat and looked at it for a couple of minutes, drinking it in and searching for familiar names among those that had posted. He didn’t recognize any but then he’d been gone for a while and most of those he was looking at were from elsewhere in the UK.

Did his login still work? That was the question. Only one way to find out. Login name, Metinides. Password, snapper1. He pressed enter again and he was in. He was still one of the crowd.

From the moment Remy had sent the messages about the walk to the Botanics, he’d been fretting over their return. He’d refreshed his inbox often enough that the F5 key was in danger of being worn out. It didn’t bring replies in any quicker but gave him something to do.

He’d ventured out to check on his dad a couple of times, taking him food and company, making both of them feel a little bit better. That apart, he’d stared at the screen, willing it to change. It turned out that his psychic powers were not all that they might be.

There was a lot of waiting. Replies came in slowly or didn’t come in at all. Ironically, the first was from Vixxxen and he had to steel himself before seeing what Gabby had to say about it.

Seriously, what is up with you, man? Okay, I’m glad you’ve seen the light and want to go out. Really glad. But a walk to the Botanics? What is this, a Sunday school outing? X

The X at the end was a very good sign and managed to put a smile on his face for the first time in five days. She was making fun of him and that was fine. Of course she hadn’t actually said whether she’d go but he could tell that she would. Whether he wanted her there he wasn’t quite so sure about but he couldn’t not ask her.

After that they’d come in in dribs and drabs, each greeted like a message from above.

Astronut said yes and so did NightLight. Hermit said it wasn’t his or her thing. LilythePink couldn’t make it. PencilPusher, Spook and Gopher said yes. Crow said maybe. CardboardCowboy, JohnDivney, Tubz, Digger9, BigTomDog and Ectoplasm didn’t bother to reply.

Of course, it might have been that one of them didn’t reply because he was dead.

It was enough, he supposed. A quorum of sorts. He’d done it. He’d actually organized an outing of the Glasgow urbexers. He suddenly wasn’t sure just why he’d done it. Or that he really wanted to go.

He thought of Gabby and the poor bugger in the tunnel and momentarily found some courage. He thought of all that he didn’t know and couldn’t do and lost it again. This wasn’t him, this wasn’t what he did. He rounded up bloody supermarket trolleys. That’s who he was.

The more he thought about it, the less sense it made. But it was done now. He couldn’t reach down the line and grab those messages back.

Narey’s eyes were tired and her head was beginning to hurt. Sitting in front of the screen wasn’t helping and neither was the amount of information she was having to take in. This really was another world. How the hell was all this going on and she knew nothing about it?

While most of Glasgow slept, others were creeping in and out of its history, climbing its past and exploring its near future. There were so many buildings that she knew and had forgotten about. She’d driven past so many of these places time and time again without thinking to step inside. She walked past so many of them without bothering to look up and be reminded that they were there.

Some of the images posted on the site were remarkable. There were photographs of the old ballroom at Gartloch Asylum and she could hardly take her eyes off them. She’d been to the building once before, with her dad when she was maybe seventeen, but they’d done no more than look in a window. It was incredible. The centre part of the tall ceiling was like the upturned hull of a ship in mosaics of cornflower blue and white. The walls were stripped of paint or paper but were still magnificent with pillars and ornate cornicing. The floor was in pieces, all rubble and old spars, but one look was enough to imagine ghosts dancing across it.

She had to stop herself from being engrossed in them. There were stunning shots from cranes, of old schools and churches, railway lines and subway stations, all places that she knew so well, or so she’d thought. This wasn’t another world. It was right here, right under her nose and everyone else’s. All they’d ever had to do was look.

So who were they, these people who’d looked where she and the rest hadn’t? It was a world of mystery, all user names and hidden faces. A lot of fun for them she was sure but not a lot of use for her. They got their kicks in the shadows, playing out of sight and undercover. In investigative terms, it was a frigging nightmare.

Maybe she could petition the court, get the website to cough up email addresses behind the user names, force service providers to give up addresses. It was a logistical and legal minefield but it could probably be done. It would take forever though and just what use it would turn out to be she wasn’t sure.

Who was Astronut? Who was LilythePink or CardboardCowboy? Who the hell was Digger9 who had climbed the university roof? Or Hermit who had photographed the old Transport Museum. Or . . . she stopped. Who was Metinides?

She shook her head. It had been a long night and had already turned into day. Her mind was all over the place and she was seeing tricks when they weren’t there. The site was obviously used by lots of amateur photographers. It wasn’t that surprising. A bit odd but not so surprising.