‘I thought I had half an idea, but now I’m not so sure,’ Rebus confessed.

‘What is it you thought you knew?’

‘He said he wanted to say sorry for making the guy’s life hell.’

‘Doesn’t sound like Cafferty.’

‘A tick-box exercise so he can show St Peter he’s tried his best.’

‘That’s the version he wants to sell you – are you still in the market?’

‘I’m thinking there has to be more to it.’

‘So are you sticking with it to track down Oram or to get to the bottom of why Cafferty asked in the first place?’

‘You’re not as daft as you look, are you?’

‘I have my moments. So Jack Oram connects to QC Lettings through his son – which is why you had me run a check on him?’

‘That’s about the size of it.’

‘And where does Francis Haggard fit in?’

‘Right now, I’m not sure he does.’

She stopped in front of him. ‘You know what I’m going to say next?’

‘I need to leave it to the professionals, not get involved, not take a stick to any wasps’ nests?’

‘I knew I could save my breath, just as I know you won’t pay any heed. But John – just ca’ canny, eh?’

‘How do you think I’ve lived so long?’

‘Sometimes I think the answer to that is a vast amount of sheer bloody luck.’ She dug her phone out, opened a page, and held the screen towards him. ‘Taken last night, outside a bar in Fountain­bridge. This is one reason why we’re fielding so many calls. I’m assuming you’ll know both faces.’

‘I know them,’ Rebus said, scanning the accompanying paragraph. ‘Let’s catch up for a drink later if you’ve got time.’

‘There’s a line in the sand, John, remember that. I’m the cop here, not you.’

‘I don’t know why people feel the need to keep reminding me.’

‘Don’t you?’

He gave her a parade-ground salute as he headed back down the staircase.

As Elizabeth Mackenzie turned into her street in Cramond, she reached down towards the storage area below the central console, her fingers picking out the little black box that opened her gates. When she looked up, however, a car was parked across her driveway, blocking entry. She stopped in front of it, knowing better than to get out. Instead, she watched as a tall young man emerged from the driver’s side. He wore an unthreatening demeanour and casual clothes, and approached as if their meeting like this was the most natural thing in the world, leaning down so his face was level with hers. Then he tried the door handle, but she had already engaged the locks. He gestured for her to lower the window. Eventually she slid it down a couple of centimetres, nothing like enough for an arm to reach in and grab her.