Power Play. Gavin Esler

in Scotland on 12 August–the ‘Glorious Twelfth’–and lasted until December.

      ‘How Glorious is this Glorious Twelfth?’ Black wondered.

      ‘A bloody nonsense,’ Anstruther scoffed. ‘Marketing ploy. Not the best time to shoot.’

      ‘When is the best time?’

      ‘Right now,’ Lord Anstruther said, looking proudly over the endless expanse of purple heather that formed his estate. ‘When the birds are fat, sleek, and fast. These are the best days on the moors, Mr Vice-President. I’ve been shooting since I was a wee lad, and these are the best days …’

      ‘Bobby,’ Black said. ‘Please call me Bobby.’