The newsreader said there had also been two more deaths in Amsterdam in the last twenty-four hours. The rogue cocaine might have come from a batch brought in from Amsterdam, either through London or Manchester, before ending up in Glasgow. Eddie was poker-faced. Jimmy glanced at Mitch, recalling their earlier conversation about the deaths, before Eddie had come into the Tavern.Eddie lifted his pint. ‘Let’s go for a seat, boys.’ He walked towards a table in the corner.Jimmy and Mitch followed him and sat down.‘Listen.’ McGregor folded his arms on the table. ‘That’s causing me all sorts of fucking shit.’ He jerked his head towards the wall-mounted television where the story was still running.Jimmy and Mitch said nothing.Eddie sniffed.‘That’s our coke.’Jimmy flicked a glimpse at Mitch. Our coke, he thought. He didn’t like it being put like that, but he had to admit to himself there was no getting away from it. He was part of it, because he was there. He was well aware what they were doing in Utrecht and he knew what they’d brought back into the country.
