‘They want me too,’ Rebus told the officer. He signed in and clipped his own pass to his jacket. A young man in a suit opened the inner door.

‘Mr Fleck?’

Fleck held out a hand for him to shake. The officer stared blankly at Rebus.

‘I’m John Rebus,’ Rebus informed him. ‘DI Clarke invited me along for a chat.’

‘I’m DC King,’ King said by way of introduction. ‘If you’ll follow me …’

‘How long have you been in CID, son?’ Fleck asked as they were led towards the stairs.

‘Long enough.’

‘I was stationed here for a while when I was about your age. Place was falling down then, and nothing seems to have changed.’

‘Attitudes have,’ King offered.

‘Did you hear that, John?’ Fleck said. ‘That’s us being put in our place.’

Malcolm Fox was standing at the top of the stairs. He ignored Fleck, his attention fixed on Rebus.

‘What’s he doing here?’ he asked. Colour began to flood King’s cheeks.

‘Said he has a meeting with DI Clarke.’

‘In a manner of speaking,’ Rebus offered. ‘You’d be summoning me eventually, so I thought I’d save you the trouble. Siobhan in there?’ He gestured towards the MIT office. ‘I’ll leave you to get acquainted with Mr Fleck, then.’

‘You can’t just …’

But Rebus already had. His eyes took in the box files, and the drawn looks on the faces of Gamble, Leighton and Esson. The murder wall had been added to. He studied it briefly, then turned his attention to Clarke’s desk. He could see her through the open doorway of the DCI’s private office. She had her back to him and was blocking any view of him the DCI herself might have. From the paperwork on her desk, she seemed to have been checking Francis Haggard’s finances. Flat worth half a million with no mortgage outstanding. About seventy K in various bank accounts, not including his accumulated pension.

As Clarke emerged from her meeting, she froze, turning her head to check her boss was busy on her computer. Then she pulled Rebus by the sleeve out of Trask’s line of sight.

‘How was your roll?’ he asked her. ‘I hope you didn’t waltz off without paying?’

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ she hissed.

‘Waiting for my interview.’

‘You can’t just—’

‘Malcolm Fox said the exact same thing.’ He gestured towards her desk. ‘Haggard wasn’t exactly hurting, was he? Have you asked the widow where it came from?’

‘She reckoned he was just well paid – told her he did a lot of overtime.’

‘What as – a bank robber?’

‘We know plenty of the Crew were on the take.’ She waved a hand towards the box files. ‘Luxury holidays, flash cars and watches, designer clothes.’

‘My old Saab becomes my alibi,’ Rebus commented. ‘Who else have you been speaking to?’

‘We brought in Tommy Oram.’