Nodding to himself, he got into the car and reversed up the lane. He was halfway to the main road when he saw the bikes heading straight towards him, the dog, Buster, lagging a long way behind. Four bikes in total, spread out across the road and being pedalled furiously, the riders’ bums up out of each saddle. And there at the centre was the face he knew. Their nameless leader.

He watched as the boy, teeth bared in fury, drew something from his waistband. ‘Christ,’ he said out loud as the pistol was aimed at his windscreen. He yanked on the steering wheel and bumped up onto the pavement, heading across a section of the muddy park, losing traction for a moment before slewing the car back onto the roadway and checking in his rear-view mirror. They had pivoted their bikes and were not about to give up the pursuit. He just hoped young angry legs were no match for the Saab’s antiquated engine. But now there was a white car turning into the estate, and Rebus was on the wrong side of the road. He turned the steering wheel hard and almost shredded a tyre or two against the kerb, while the white car was forced to bump up onto the opposite pavement. The Saab growled on to Calder Road, this time almost sideswiping a black cab on the roundabout. Rebus ignored the blaring horn, and when he next checked in the mirror, there was no sign of his pursuers. He allowed himself a long exhalation. That was the easy bit done and dusted.

Now he just had to wait.

‘I’ve been trying to get you,’ Clarke said when Ronnie Ogilvie called her.

‘Got a bit hectic here for a while.’

‘You brought Crosbie in?’

‘Lovely guy. We’re meeting up this weekend to play golf.’

‘But meantime, in the real world?’

‘He doesn’t deny it’s his car or him at the wheel. But he says he was nowhere near Laura Smith’s house and wouldn’t know her if he saw her.’

‘So what was he doing there at that time of night? He lives and works the other side of the city.’

‘Not strictly true. As well as being a doorman, he also does a bit of chauffeuring for the Mackenzies. He was dropping the daughter home, meaning the family home in Cramond. After that, he drove to his flat in Craigmillar. He says the daughter will vouch for him.’

‘Cramond to Craigmillar via Broughton Street?’

‘You and I might choose a more direct route. He just shrugged when I suggested as much.’

‘Could you get a search warrant for the car? Hard to transport a petrol bomb without a bit of spillage.’

‘Probable cause, Siobhan? Plus I’m sure he’d have an explan­ation, plausible or otherwise.’

‘So you’ve let him go?’

‘Pending further enquiries. Any chance of you helping me out?’