CHAPTER ELEVEN
Duff pulled the driver from the cell by one arm and rammed him onto the chair in the interview room. “Here he is, Sergeant. I’ll be outside if you need me.”
“Thank you, Duff.” Watters waited until Duff closed the door before he sat opposite the driver. “What’s your name?”
“I cannae mind. What’s yours?” The driver leaned back, smiling.
“Sergeant George Watters of the Dundee Police and you’re in major trouble,” Watters said. “Assaulting a police officer, resisting arrest and plagium, plus other offences. You’re looking at penal servitude.”
“What’s plagium?” The driver was about forty, Watters guessed, with greying whiskers and a cleft chin.
“Child theft,” Watters said.
“I didn’t steal a child,” the driver pointed out.
“Only because we stopped you,” Watters told him. “W
