'Not any more!' Insch slammed through the stairwell doors, making them boom off the walls. 'BASTARDS!' 'About Ken Wiseman ...' 'How many years have I given this place?' He took the stairs two at a time. 'Sir, we ... I arrested him this morning.' Insch froze. Voice low and dangerous. 'You did what?' Alec finally caught up with them, his camera focused on the inspector's furious face. Logan held a hand in front of the lens. 'Switch that damn thing off--' 'What the fuck did you do?' 'Wiseman was involved in his sister's death. That's where the blood came from in 1990. There was an argument, maybe an accident and--' Insch grabbed Logan by the lapels and thumped him back against the wall. 'I told you! I wanted him out, not behind bloody bars!' 'I couldn't let you--' BANG: back against the wall again. This time Insch let go, and marched off, Alec scurrying after him. BOOM: through the doors. Leaving Logan to slump, swear, then follow on behind. The inspector bulldozed his way into reception, shoved past a pair of constables and out into the rain. The sky was battleship-grey above the rain-battered granite buildings, making it difficult to tell where the city stopped and the downpour began. Logan splashed after Insch and the cameraman, catching up to them just outside the District Court. 'Wait, you need to--' Insch spun, wrapped a huge fist into Logan's jacket and threw him to the floor. 'I TRUSTED YOU!' The fat man loomed, bald head dripping, suit slowly turning funeral black as the rain soaked into it. 'It was all Brooks' fault. Wiseman isn't the Flesher, never was.' 'You knew I needed him outside--' Logan sat up, feeling the cold puddle soaking through his trousers. 'He's not the Flesher. He went after Brooks because he set him up - he came after you, because you helped. If Brooks had done his bloody job none of this would have happened. Sticking Wiseman in Peterhead Prison made him what he is today.' He groaned his way to his feet. 'It was a self-fulfilling prophesy.' Insch looked as if he was about to burst: face dark scarlet, lips pulled back like a snarling dog, thin breaths hissing in and out between his gritted teeth. Alec peered round the side of his camera. 'Inspector? Are you OK?' 'You ...' Grimace. 'You ...' One hand went to the middle of his chest, fingers splayed. Then curled into a fist. 'You ...' Mouth open, no sound coming out as Insch's legs gave way. On his knees. One hand against the cold, wet concrete paving slab, the other massaging his chest. And then he was face down, the rain bouncing off his suddenly pale head. 'Oh fuck ...' Logan scrambled through the puddles and stuck two fingers to the side of Insch's throat. 'Fuck!'
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