The married couple is still missing. They are still presumed dead. Jack Dorcha, the single greatest entrepreneur in modern Scotland, visits one by one the descendants of the men who cast him into the sea. Chase, the inimical and crime-writing uncle jounces Wren, the former black-letter law judge, from his doddering Lethe. Chase chisels away at dragooning Wren the second time to re-visit, re-investigate, and re-analyse the suspects. Chase adjures Wren that all of those who may have been implicated be raked over the coals. But this time it is an altogether different ball game. Insidiously the tables are being turned. Wren is vitrified. Wren runs counter to Chase. Wren exacts revenge on Glasson Dorcha by obtruding him to endure the reality of his own perceived sense of imprisonment and mutilation. Wren evens the score with Belay by foxing to expel him, the tormented worldly-wise employer of judges, his disgracious employer, motionlessly into the nadir of his self-tormented cocoon by envenoming his meal ticket and eviscerating his theorem regarding the concupiscence for the man he loves. He determines to ruin, imprison, or kill Chase, and immolate his own family. He eyeballs Chase with the significant chance that he was the culprit. Wren unglues Chase with his own pharisaical stance on his own ipseity. Finally, Jack Dorcha returns in person to avenge Wren and Chase. Who will win this time? The wrathful retired special adjudicator, the absinthal employer of torture judges, the inimical crime-writing uncle, the usurious mercenary Jack Dorcha, the now ungovernable gangster in Glasgow, the stochastic new murderer or one of the pertinacious suspects?
