He led the way out onto the pavement. Rebus asked him what was on his mind.

‘You knew Francis, John,’ Agnew said, checking no one else was within earshot. ‘We all thought we knew him better than we did. Never thought he’d be one to squeal.’ He shook his head slowly. ‘I didn’t see that coming at all. This was a guy I’d hang out with – dinners with the wives and girlfriends; nights at the boxing; trips to the football. We were mates – him, me and Rob. Proper buds, not just work mates.’

‘These parties and nights out, who else would be at them? Alan Fleck?’

‘Alan, aye, and a few others.’

‘Any bad boys invited? Or were they maybe the hosts?’

‘Ach, you know what it’s like. You’re getting a box at Ibrox, you don’t always want to know whose wallet’s responsible.’

‘Cafferty sometimes, I’m guessing.’ Rebus paused. ‘And latterly, maybe Fraser Mackenzie?’

Agnew studied Rebus’s face. ‘What’s going on here, John?’

Rebus held up his hands in a show of innocence. ‘Nothing up my sleeves, Chris. I’m a civilian these days, remember? It’s just that some of your lads were at a nightclub last night where the resident DJ happens to be Mackenzie’s daughter.’

‘Gaby?’ A smile spread across Agnew’s face. ‘Tried to have a wee go there myself one time, but she wasn’t having it. And I suppose you could call her the resident DJ, if you were feeling ungenerous.’

Rebus’s eyebrows contracted. ‘Well, what is she then?’

‘The owner,’ Agnew told him. ‘Lock, stock and profit-making ­barrel.’

‘Should I have asked Rob Driscoll’s lawyer to stick around?’ Alan Fleck asked Clarke as she settled on a chair across from him in IV2.

‘Depends how guilty you want to look.’

Fleck shrugged. ‘Rob knows the score. He was angling to meet Francis and Francis had agreed. Stands to reason he’s a person of interest. I’m just not sure I qualify.’ He broke off as the door opened and Malcolm Fox strode in carrying a mug of coffee for himself. Fleck managed a wry smile. ‘How many times have you rehearsed that entrance?’ he asked.

Fox ignored him, sitting down and placing a hand on the two bulging and antiquated manila folders on the tabletop.

‘You know DI Fox here has already been to see me at my place of work?’ Fleck informed Clarke before either detective could say anything. ‘Almost counts as harassment, the way he carries on, same as when he was Complaints.’

Fox had been busying himself on his phone. He found what he was looking for, Fleck making show of peering at the screen.

‘This is you and Rob Driscoll,’ Fox stated, ‘after you’d convened a meeting of the Crew, yes?’

‘I didn’t “convene” anything.’