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whining,” I said, trying to get my heart rate down.
    The man at the bus stop looked at the two women, then turned to me. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “He isn’t much more than a child.”
    â€œAye,” one of the women put in. “Ma Kenny’s about the same age as him.”
    â€œTerrible,” the other woman said. “The violence in this city nowadays is a disgrace.”
    â€œWhat?” I gasped. “They were robbing you. This scumbag tried to skewer me.”
    The elderly man was shaking his head. “It was your own fault. You threatened him.” He stepped up to me. “Who are you? Show us some identification, please.”
    â€œOh, for Christ’s sake,” I said, glaring at him and the women. “I was trying to help.”
    â€œAye, well, you needn’t have bothered,” the woman in the scarf said. “The wee tike that ran off had all our vouchers.”
    I groaned then raised a finger at Flash who’d let out what sounded like a laugh.
    â€œI want to see some identification,” the man insisted. “You can’t just attack people in the street.” He gave me a stern look. “Nor can you take the Lord’s name in vain.”
    â€œIt was self-defence,” I said, shaking my head. “Have you ever heard of that?”
    â€œThe gospel teaches us to turn the other cheek,” he said piously. Typical. I’d run into one of Edinburgh’s few remaining Christians.
    â€œI suppose you’ll be wanting me to let him go next,” I said, watching as the three victims shuffled their feet and looked away. Then the penny dropped. “Oh, I get it. You know this specimen, don’t you? He’s a local and he knows where you live.”
    They all nodded.
    â€œCan ye no’ be lenient wi’ him?” asked the bareheaded woman. “It’ll be better for all of us . . .”
    I glanced at Flash. His face was still screwed up in agony, but his eyes were pools of viciousness that were focused on the three citizens. Bloody hell. I didn’t fancy letting the little barbarian hoof it; he’d be back on the streets as soon as his plaster was off. On the other hand, I still wasn’t keen on calling the guard. Davie would cover for me but since the Mist descended over the castle and cramped Hamilton’s style, I’d been trying to keep a low profile. Although I was still officially chief special investigator and my anomalous position as a DM in the directorate was tolerated, I had less room for manoeuvre than I used to.
    So I let Flash go. From the end of the road I was treated to a detailed breakdown of what he’d do to my internal organs when he caught up with me. That – and the atmosphere of frosty disapproval created by the three citizens before the bus arrived twenty minutes late – really put me in the mood for an evening in the company of the city’s great and good.
    The City Guard had slung a chain across Waterloo Place beyond the east end of Princes Street. What appeared to be an army of uniformed personnel was looking alert and checking everyone’s papers. Even though the guardswoman who stopped me seemed to know who I was, she insisted on seeing my authorisation.
    I walked up the slope and got an eyeful of the new prison. I didn’t have any choice. The whole area on the crag above what used to be Waverley station in the days before the Council did away with railways was lit up like a bonfire. Filters over the floodlights were turning the high walls of the buildings maroon, the city’s pet colour. White searchlights were roving across the stone surfaces, even though the first prisoner hadn’t yet been admitted, let alone managed to escape. Passing the Old Calton Burial Ground, I realised that it was enclosed behind the razor wire that festooned the whole area. It seemed that even Edinburgh’s venerable dead were going to