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fucking shit. You're the piece of fucking shit."
    You know what? If I could drive, I'd waste you right now. Jordan grabbed Carlos's hand, moved the gun away from his face. You're a grown man. You need to deal with this.
     
    ***
     
    The little cocksuckerwas right, of course. Just cause they were in the middle of nowhere at half two in the morning didn't mean no one had heard the shots. Or that a car wouldn't come along and snare them in its headlights.
    Carlos needed Jordan's help. He couldn't sort this mess out on his own. There were two bodies now. And only one bodybag . Carlos didn't like numbers that didn't add up.
    He lowered his arm. "I'm a bit fucked up," he said.
    That's okay. But if you point that gun at me again, I'll have to shoot you. Even if it means I have to walk all the way back home.
    Carlos tucked the gun into his waistband, felt the heat still from the muzzle. Felt like it was inside him, glowing.
    "You take the feet," he said, shuffled round, slipped his hands under her armpits.
    Jordan got into position. On three, we'll lift it.
    "Her," Carlos said. "We'll lift her. "
    Fine. You ready?
    Yeah, Carlos was as ready as he was going to be.
    Wait a minute. Jordan lowered her feet, picked something off the road. Stretched out his hand to offer it to Carlos.
    "What is it?"
    iPod . Still got the headphones round its — her — neck, look.
    Carlos took the machine. It looked okay, no cracks that he could see. He slipped the headphones off her neck and put them round his own. He plugged the end into the machine, selected random play and told Jordan to grab her feet again.
    Strings. Fiddles and double basses, played posh with a bow. Bach, she'd said. It was supposed to be relaxing.
     
     

 
     
    THREE
     
    Carlos pulled into a petrol station and got out of the van, checking himself once again for bloodstains. They'd cleaned up with some rags and babywipes that Maggie'd brought along. He'd had a stain on his jumper, probably from Bob, so he'd taken it off. His shoes were pretty bad, and some of the blood had soaked in. But the all-night attendant wasn't going to notice.
    Carlos walked over to him, smiled. He hoped the fucker wasn't the talkative type. "Twenty B&H," he said.
    The cashier grunted, disappeared to fetch the cigarettes, then returned to the window in his kiosk. He muttered something, presumably the price. Carlos slid a ten-pound note to him, and got his change back with a grunt.
    Carlos was about to spring open the packet and light up when he remembered he couldn't do that here.
    He walked back to the van, strapped himself into his seat.
    You going to smoke in here? Jordan said.
    And they'd been getting on so well.
    Carlos drove off, looking for a lay-by.
    They'd had to get along. Decisions had had to be made. They'd abandoned the idea of chucking the bodies in the Forth. There was only one chain, so they could dispose of one of them that way, but the other was going to be a problem. So they agreed that they'd just dispose of the pair of them with the van. By then, Carlos had been able to think more clearly. It didn't much matter to him whether Maggie had her send-off by water or fire. If anything, fire was the cleaner option. And he was pretty sure it didn't matter to her. He'd need to set up an alibi for himself, but that would be easy enough. And with nothing to link him to the van or the guns, the police wouldn't be able to make a case against him. Not that they'd want to. He was pretty sure it'd be obvious to the dumbest of detectives that he was hurting.
    Carlos pulled over. Right under a streetlamp. The sodium light tinted the pavement orange. Or tan.
    He lit a cigarette. Dios , the smoke bit the back of his throat. He spluttered.
    Jordan swore, opened his window.
    Carlos took another drag, coughed again. The smoke seeped into his chest, his lungs, and he felt light-headed. Had to be a nicotine rush. Something he hadn't felt since he first started smoking. Or maybe it was adrenaline.
    He slipped