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9781838854119 6168210e3cde5974fdbcaf16 The Dark Remains https://www.midlandbookshop.com/s/607fe93d7eafcac1f2c73ea4/6168210f3cde5974fdbcaf2a/51cypiflvkl.jpg

THE SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER

'Fantastic' Lee Child
'Absolutely brilliant' Mick Herron

If the truth's in the shadows, get out of the light . . .

Lawyer Bobby Carter did a lot of work for the wrong type of people. Now he’s dead and it was no accident. Besides a distraught family and a heap of powerful friends, Carter’s left behind his share of enemies. So, who dealt the fatal blow?

DC Jack Laidlaw’s reputation precedes him. He’s not a team player, but he’s got a sixth sense for what’s happening on the streets. His boss chalks the violence up to the usual rivalries, but is it that simple? As two Glasgow gangs go to war, Laidlaw needs to find out who got Carter before the whole city explodes.

William McIlvanney’s Laidlaw books changed the face of crime fiction. When he died in 2015, he left half a handwritten manuscript of Laidlaw’s first case. Now, Ian Rankin is back to finish what McIlvanney started. In The Dark Remains, these two iconic authors bring to life the criminal world of 1970s Glasgow, and Laidlaw’s relentless quest for truth.

 

Review

Praise for The Dark Remains:

"Fantastic - like witnessing Scottish noir's Big Bang creation in the company of its greatest living exponent ..." -LEE CHILD
 
"It was sheer joy to hear McIlvanney’s voice once more and be transported back to 1972 and the Glasgow of Jack Laidlaw. It would be impossible to calculate just how many writers have been influenced by him."  -ALEX GRAY



Praise for William McIlvanney


"He kicked the door open so the likes of Ian Rankin, Denise Mina and me could sneak through behind him." -Val McDermid, author of The Mermaids Singing

"The finest Scottish novelist of our time." -The Telegraph

"It is great entertainment, but McIlvanney's achievement is to transcend the conventions of the crime novel even while he observes them. The trilogy is one of the finest things in modern fiction, in the Chandler and Simenon class." -Spectator

"The Laidlaw books are like fine malt whisky--the pure distilled essence of Scottish crime writing." -Peter May, author of the Lewis trilogy

"Allan Guthrie probably comes closest to McIlvanney in his mix of humor and compassion, but even that top-flight crime writer doesn't do it with the same concentration." -Peter Rozovsky, Detectives Beyond Borders

"A crime trilogy so searing it will burn forever into your memory. McIlvanney is the original Scottish criminal mastermind." -Christopher Brookmyre, author of When the Devil Drive

"The Laidlaw books are not just great crime novels, they are important ones. McIlvanney proved that crime writing could have both perfect style and huge ambition. Most of us writing crime fiction today are standing on the shoulders of giants. McIlvanney is one such giant." -Mark Billingham, author of Sleepyhead


Praise for Ian Rankin


"Ian Rankin is a genius." -Lee Child, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Jack Reacher thrillers

"There's no one like Ian Rankin."-Tana French, New York Times bestselling author of In the Woods

"A master storyteller." -The Guardian

"One of Britain's leading novelists in any genre." -New Statesman

"Rankin is a phenomenon." -The Spectator --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

About the Author

William McIlvanney is the author of the award-winning Laidlaw trilogy, featuring Glasgow’s original maverick detective. Both Laidlaw and The Papers of Tony Veitch gained Silver Daggers from the Crime Writers’ Association, while the third in the series, Strange Loyalties, won the Glasgow Herald’s People’s Prize. He died in December 2015.

Ian Rankin is the number one bestselling author of the Inspector Rebus series. The Rebus books have been translated into thirty-six languages and are bestsellers worldwide. He is the recipient of four Crime Writers’ Association Dagger Awards, including the prestigious Diamond Dagger, and in 2002 he received an OBE for services to literature. He lives in Edinburgh.
 
@beathhigh | ianrankin.net --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

October 1972

1
 
All cities are riddled with crime. It comes with the territory. Gather enough people together in one place and malignancy is guaranteed to manifest in some form or other. It’s the nature of the beast. In the awareness of the citizens the condition usually lies dormant. The preoccupations of our daily lives obscure any dramatic sense of threat. It’s only intermittently (when, say, an Ibrox disaster occurs or a Bible John hits the front pages) that people may focus on how close to random risk they have been living. They can sometimes experience a renewed awareness that a kind of ubiquitous, threatening strangeness is haunting the edges of apparent normalcy. They realise again how thin the membrane is on which we walk, liable to fall through at any moment into darker places. They may wonder if they are as safe as they thought they were.

Commander Robert Frederick of the Glasgow Crime Squad was thinking of these things. He was aware of a potential risk that his city might be about to have that comfortable sense of security disturbed. A man called Bobby Carter had disappeared. His family had that afternoon informed the police that he hadn’t been home for the past two days. This in itself, as far as Frederick and his squad were concerned, wasn’t exactly a cause for deep mourning. Bobby Carter was a career criminal. Or rather, a venally clever lawyer who didn’t so much rub shoulders with crim­inals as steep in the same polluted bathwater as them. Well educated and from a decent family, Carter had chosen to spend his professional life protecting and guiding the scum of Frederick’s particular patch of earth. His job was to move dirty money around, putting it out of reach of the taxman. Cash was made clean by buying out law-abiding and fruitful businesses, and it was Carter’s remit to ensure that the contract always favoured buyer rather than seller.

As he sat staring across his obsessively tidy desk, what worried the Commander was the vacuum Carter’s dis-appearance might create in the Glasgow criminal fraternity and the violent forces that might rush in to fill it. Carter was known to be Cam Colvin’s right-hand man, one of the few he trusted. Colvin’s was a name to instil fear, a reputation stretching back to teenage years when he had strode into a surgery demanding to see the doctor. Asked what the problem was, he had said nothing, instead turning round to show the receptionist the blade jutting out from between his shoulders. Cam Colvin decidedly wasn’t a man to be toyed with or crossed, which meant that the implications of Carter’s vanishing act might reverberate far beyond gangland and affect the greater, wholly innocent population.

The Commander’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Without waiting to be asked, Detective Sergeant Bob Lilley entered, closing the door after him.

‘What’s the thinking?’ the Commander enquired.

Lilley took a deep breath. ‘One view is, here’s hoping he’s been abducted by aliens and taken to another galaxy.’

‘Who said that?’

‘The new boy.’

‘Laidlaw?’ The Commander watched Lilley nod. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about him.’

‘Jack Laidlaw is not an unknown quantity, sir. His reputation has always preceded him, which I’m guessing is why we’ve been landed with him. Who has he rubbed up the wrong way this month?’

‘Who’s left?’ Frederick shifted in his chair. ‘But the same message keeps coming through – he’s good at the job, seems to have a sixth sense for what’s happening on the streets.’

‘I sense a “but” in the offing.’

‘Only insofar as he needs careful handling if we’re to get the best out of him.’

‘I’m not much of a one for babysitting, sir.’

‘It’s just for a week or two, until he gets to know our ways.’

Lilley considered for a moment before nodding his agree­ment. Frederick allowed himself to relax a little.

‘I’ll see you at Ben Finlay’s drinks tonight?’

‘Don’t you worry, sir – I want to make sure the bugger really is retiring this time.’

‘See to it that Laidlaw’s there, too. Let the team get the measure of him.’

‘Finlay’s already invited him. Seems they’re old friends. That’s a black mark against our new recruit right there.’ Lilley paused. ‘I’m assuming there’s no news of Bobby Carter then?’

‘I should be asking you that.’

‘We’ve been to talk to the family. Checked his office in town. They waited a couple of days before phoning us because it’s not unknown for him to take a deep dive occa­sionally.’

‘Meaning?’

‘A night at the casino followed by a day sleeping it off wherever he ends up.’

‘But not on this occasion?’

‘No establishment on our radar claims to have had his business.’

‘Spoken to his associates yet?’

‘I’m still hopeful that won’t be necessary, because once we’ve had words with Cam Colvin, we’ll have to do the same with the opposing teams.’

‘Meaning John Rhodes and Matt Mason.’ The Commander nodded slowly. ‘Softly softly, Bob, just like the TV show.’

‘But with a bit more realism, eh, sir?’ Lilley turned to leave.

‘Eyes on Jack Laidlaw, Bob. I want him inside the tent, as Lyndon Johnson says – if you take my meaning.’

Lilley nodded again and was gone, leaving his boss to recommence his staring contest with the closed door. Abducted by aliens was certainly a better outcome than some he could think of. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.
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  • ISBN :9781838854119
  • Author: William Mcilvanney Ian Rankin
  • Publisher: Canongate Books
  • Pages: 289
  • Format: Paperback
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Book Description

THE SUNDAY TIMES BESTSELLER

'Fantastic' Lee Child
'Absolutely brilliant' Mick Herron

If the truth's in the shadows, get out of the light . . .

Lawyer Bobby Carter did a lot of work for the wrong type of people. Now he’s dead and it was no accident. Besides a distraught family and a heap of powerful friends, Carter’s left behind his share of enemies. So, who dealt the fatal blow?

DC Jack Laidlaw’s reputation precedes him. He’s not a team player, but he’s got a sixth sense for what’s happening on the streets. His boss chalks the violence up to the usual rivalries, but is it that simple? As two Glasgow gangs go to war, Laidlaw needs to find out who got Carter before the whole city explodes.

William McIlvanney’s Laidlaw books changed the face of crime fiction. When he died in 2015, he left half a handwritten manuscript of Laidlaw’s first case. Now, Ian Rankin is back to finish what McIlvanney started. In The Dark Remains, these two iconic authors bring to life the criminal world of 1970s Glasgow, and Laidlaw’s relentless quest for truth.

 

Review

Praise for The Dark Remains:

"Fantastic - like witnessing Scottish noir's Big Bang creation in the company of its greatest living exponent ..." -LEE CHILD
 
"It was sheer joy to hear McIlvanney’s voice once more and be transported back to 1972 and the Glasgow of Jack Laidlaw. It would be impossible to calculate just how many writers have been influenced by him."  -ALEX GRAY



Praise for William McIlvanney


"He kicked the door open so the likes of Ian Rankin, Denise Mina and me could sneak through behind him." -Val McDermid, author of The Mermaids Singing

"The finest Scottish novelist of our time." -The Telegraph

"It is great entertainment, but McIlvanney's achievement is to transcend the conventions of the crime novel even while he observes them. The trilogy is one of the finest things in modern fiction, in the Chandler and Simenon class." -Spectator

"The Laidlaw books are like fine malt whisky--the pure distilled essence of Scottish crime writing." -Peter May, author of the Lewis trilogy

"Allan Guthrie probably comes closest to McIlvanney in his mix of humor and compassion, but even that top-flight crime writer doesn't do it with the same concentration." -Peter Rozovsky, Detectives Beyond Borders

"A crime trilogy so searing it will burn forever into your memory. McIlvanney is the original Scottish criminal mastermind." -Christopher Brookmyre, author of When the Devil Drive

"The Laidlaw books are not just great crime novels, they are important ones. McIlvanney proved that crime writing could have both perfect style and huge ambition. Most of us writing crime fiction today are standing on the shoulders of giants. McIlvanney is one such giant." -Mark Billingham, author of Sleepyhead


Praise for Ian Rankin


"Ian Rankin is a genius." -Lee Child, #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Jack Reacher thrillers

"There's no one like Ian Rankin."-Tana French, New York Times bestselling author of In the Woods

"A master storyteller." -The Guardian

"One of Britain's leading novelists in any genre." -New Statesman

"Rankin is a phenomenon." -The Spectator --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

About the Author

William McIlvanney is the author of the award-winning Laidlaw trilogy, featuring Glasgow’s original maverick detective. Both Laidlaw and The Papers of Tony Veitch gained Silver Daggers from the Crime Writers’ Association, while the third in the series, Strange Loyalties, won the Glasgow Herald’s People’s Prize. He died in December 2015.

Ian Rankin is the number one bestselling author of the Inspector Rebus series. The Rebus books have been translated into thirty-six languages and are bestsellers worldwide. He is the recipient of four Crime Writers’ Association Dagger Awards, including the prestigious Diamond Dagger, and in 2002 he received an OBE for services to literature. He lives in Edinburgh.
 
@beathhigh | ianrankin.net --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

October 1972

1
 
All cities are riddled with crime. It comes with the territory. Gather enough people together in one place and malignancy is guaranteed to manifest in some form or other. It’s the nature of the beast. In the awareness of the citizens the condition usually lies dormant. The preoccupations of our daily lives obscure any dramatic sense of threat. It’s only intermittently (when, say, an Ibrox disaster occurs or a Bible John hits the front pages) that people may focus on how close to random risk they have been living. They can sometimes experience a renewed awareness that a kind of ubiquitous, threatening strangeness is haunting the edges of apparent normalcy. They realise again how thin the membrane is on which we walk, liable to fall through at any moment into darker places. They may wonder if they are as safe as they thought they were.

Commander Robert Frederick of the Glasgow Crime Squad was thinking of these things. He was aware of a potential risk that his city might be about to have that comfortable sense of security disturbed. A man called Bobby Carter had disappeared. His family had that afternoon informed the police that he hadn’t been home for the past two days. This in itself, as far as Frederick and his squad were concerned, wasn’t exactly a cause for deep mourning. Bobby Carter was a career criminal. Or rather, a venally clever lawyer who didn’t so much rub shoulders with crim­inals as steep in the same polluted bathwater as them. Well educated and from a decent family, Carter had chosen to spend his professional life protecting and guiding the scum of Frederick’s particular patch of earth. His job was to move dirty money around, putting it out of reach of the taxman. Cash was made clean by buying out law-abiding and fruitful businesses, and it was Carter’s remit to ensure that the contract always favoured buyer rather than seller.

As he sat staring across his obsessively tidy desk, what worried the Commander was the vacuum Carter’s dis-appearance might create in the Glasgow criminal fraternity and the violent forces that might rush in to fill it. Carter was known to be Cam Colvin’s right-hand man, one of the few he trusted. Colvin’s was a name to instil fear, a reputation stretching back to teenage years when he had strode into a surgery demanding to see the doctor. Asked what the problem was, he had said nothing, instead turning round to show the receptionist the blade jutting out from between his shoulders. Cam Colvin decidedly wasn’t a man to be toyed with or crossed, which meant that the implications of Carter’s vanishing act might reverberate far beyond gangland and affect the greater, wholly innocent population.

The Commander’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. Without waiting to be asked, Detective Sergeant Bob Lilley entered, closing the door after him.

‘What’s the thinking?’ the Commander enquired.

Lilley took a deep breath. ‘One view is, here’s hoping he’s been abducted by aliens and taken to another galaxy.’

‘Who said that?’

‘The new boy.’

‘Laidlaw?’ The Commander watched Lilley nod. ‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about him.’

‘Jack Laidlaw is not an unknown quantity, sir. His reputation has always preceded him, which I’m guessing is why we’ve been landed with him. Who has he rubbed up the wrong way this month?’

‘Who’s left?’ Frederick shifted in his chair. ‘But the same message keeps coming through – he’s good at the job, seems to have a sixth sense for what’s happening on the streets.’

‘I sense a “but” in the offing.’

‘Only insofar as he needs careful handling if we’re to get the best out of him.’

‘I’m not much of a one for babysitting, sir.’

‘It’s just for a week or two, until he gets to know our ways.’

Lilley considered for a moment before nodding his agree­ment. Frederick allowed himself to relax a little.

‘I’ll see you at Ben Finlay’s drinks tonight?’

‘Don’t you worry, sir – I want to make sure the bugger really is retiring this time.’

‘See to it that Laidlaw’s there, too. Let the team get the measure of him.’

‘Finlay’s already invited him. Seems they’re old friends. That’s a black mark against our new recruit right there.’ Lilley paused. ‘I’m assuming there’s no news of Bobby Carter then?’

‘I should be asking you that.’

‘We’ve been to talk to the family. Checked his office in town. They waited a couple of days before phoning us because it’s not unknown for him to take a deep dive occa­sionally.’

‘Meaning?’

‘A night at the casino followed by a day sleeping it off wherever he ends up.’

‘But not on this occasion?’

‘No establishment on our radar claims to have had his business.’

‘Spoken to his associates yet?’

‘I’m still hopeful that won’t be necessary, because once we’ve had words with Cam Colvin, we’ll have to do the same with the opposing teams.’

‘Meaning John Rhodes and Matt Mason.’ The Commander nodded slowly. ‘Softly softly, Bob, just like the TV show.’

‘But with a bit more realism, eh, sir?’ Lilley turned to leave.

‘Eyes on Jack Laidlaw, Bob. I want him inside the tent, as Lyndon Johnson says – if you take my meaning.’

Lilley nodded again and was gone, leaving his boss to recommence his staring contest with the closed door. Abducted by aliens was certainly a better outcome than some he could think of. --This text refers to an alternate kindle_edition edition.

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