‘He’s not, though, is he?’ Tommy said in a quiet voice. ‘It’s why I kept coming in, so you wouldn’t think I had an inkling. I was hoping you’d let something slip. You probably would have, sooner or later.’ He glanced towards Rebus. ‘My dad didn’t like what I was mixed up in. He knew Crosbie worked the door at Elemental as well as owning this place, on paper at least. Stood to reason he would come barging in here and get on the wrong side of you.’ His attention was focused once more on Beecham and Crosbie. ‘Then he vanishes, leaving no proof, no witnesses …’

‘There still aren’t,’ Beecham stated.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Rebus countered. ‘Not too many quarries around Edinburgh. Won’t take a team of divers long to check them.’ He had taken out his phone. ‘Just need to call it in.’

‘And what happens when they get here?’ Beecham went on. ‘Who’s the one pointing a gun at two innocent men? Won’t be us they’ll be taking in. Best thing you can do, Tommy, is walk away, let us deal with this.’

‘Like you dealt with my dad?’

‘That was Crosbie. Nothing to do with me.’

The look Crosbie gave him was incendiary. ‘Bastard,’ he spat, flinging himself at Beecham, the two men starting to wrestle, twisting and turning. Rebus saw it as the ruse it was, but nothing like quickly enough, the two men suddenly launching themselves at Tommy Oram. The gun exploded into life, turning Beecham into a momentary waxwork before he angled his head down to examine the hole in the front of his shirt. Crosbie had paused too, but for only a moment. It was long enough for Tommy to take aim and fire a second time. The noise was deafening, the smell of burning ­powder filling even Rebus’s blood-clogged nostrils. He watched Crosbie drop to his knees, hands pressed to the wound. Beecham had fallen backwards like an axed tree. Tommy was breathing heavily, gun still held out in front of him. He looked resigned to his fate, nothing but jail time ahead of him despite saving a man’s life.

‘Thanks,’ Rebus said.

When Oram spoke, his voice was unnaturally calm. ‘I’ll make the call, hand myself in. You best get out of here. You were never part of this.’

‘They’ll want to hear my side,’ Rebus argued.

‘Including lifting all that coke from the lock-up? That busted boot of yours tells me you didn’t get to hang onto it.’

Rebus considered for a moment, a moment during which Oram switched gun for phone and began making the call.

‘Cafferty has the coke,’ he said. ‘Make sure Beth gets to hear. And I’m sorry …’

‘Sorry?’

‘For everything,’ Rebus said as he headed towards the door.