‘They’ve been going through the Complaints files,’ Rebus stated. ‘My name’s come up more than I’d like. Apparently I was some kind of broker between Tynecastle and the likes of Cafferty.’

‘They didn’t mention that to me,’ Driscoll said, studying Rebus in the rear-view mirror.

‘So what did you chat about?’

‘They brought up Tony Barlow,’ Fleck answered.

‘They?’

‘Two DIs, Clarke and Fox,’ Driscoll replied. ‘But specifically Fox. He was Complaints, now Specialist Crime.’

‘Rob was the last person Francis was in contact with,’ Fleck said, all his earlier fake heartiness gone. ‘MIT have zeroed in on that.’

‘I’ll bet they have.’

‘It won’t go anywhere – there’s nowhere for it to go,’ Driscoll said.

‘Which is presumably why they’ve added Barlow to the pot.’

‘You know this bastard Fox?’

‘We’ve had dealings, haven’t we, Alan?’

‘Never got very far,’ Fleck countered. ‘We were far too canny to let that happen.’

‘One loose link in the chain is all it takes,’ Rebus said. ‘And with Francis Haggard, Fox thinks he has his link.’

‘Pity the chain seems to have fallen down a grating.’ Fleck was smiling quietly. Rebus got the feeling it was a performance meant to bolster Driscoll, who was gripping the steering wheel as though ready to choke the life from it. Fleck even patted the younger man’s arm, as if to calm him. ‘You did the right thing, Rob. Bringing your lawyer in and then saying as little as possible. Here’s hoping the others are half as wise.’ Then he half turned towards Rebus. ‘Best not keep them waiting, eh?’

He opened the passenger door and climbed out. Rebus followed suit, the two men striding towards their destination.

‘Nice motor,’ Rebus commented. Driscoll was still gripping the steering wheel, staring straight ahead without seeing.

‘He’ll be selling it soon, if you’re interested.’

‘What I’m interested in is keeping my name out of this.’

‘Sounds like it’s too late for that, John.’

‘One meeting I set up, just one.’

‘Sure your memory’s not going?’

‘I did it as a favour, nothing more – and I stayed the other side of the door.’

‘I’d be disappointed if you weren’t listening in, though?’ Fleck watched Rebus shake his head. ‘Or if Cafferty didn’t fill you in afterwards?’

‘Not that either.’

‘And I suppose the ton I gave you as thanks went to good causes?’

‘I probably used it to prop up local businesses,’ Rebus said.

Fleck came to a stop and faced him. ‘You really don’t know what that meeting with Cafferty was about?’

‘I really don’t.’

Fleck sought something in Rebus’s eyes and body language, failing to find it. He shook his head slowly and opened the door to the police station, Rebus following him inside. Fleck gave his name to the front desk and was handed a visitor pass.