‘Holiday snaps, is it?’ Jack asked.

‘Just don’t ask how I got them,’ Rebus warned. He explained to the assistant that he wanted reprints made of each negative. She jotted down the instructions and told him it would be next day.

‘No chance of one-hour?’

‘Not with reprints, sorry.’

Rebus took the receipt from her and folded it into his pocket. Outside again, the sun had given up. It was raining. Rebus kept his jacket off, sweating enough as it was.

‘Look,’ Jack said, ‘you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I wouldn’t mind knowing a bit about all this.’

‘All what?’

‘Your trip to Aberdeen, all the little coded messages between Chick and you, just, well, everything.’

‘Probably best you don’t know.’

‘Why? Because I’m working for Ancram?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Come on, John.’

But Rebus wasn’t listening. Two shops down from the photographer’s was a small DIY store: paint and brushes and wallpaper rolls. It gave Rebus an idea. Back at the car, he gave directions, telling Jack they were on a mystery tour – remembering Lumsden saying the same thing to him his first night in Furry Boot Town. Near St Leonard’s Rebus told Jack to make a left.

‘Here?’

‘Here.’

It was a do-it-yourself superstore. The car park was almost empty, so they parked close to the doors. Then Rebus hopped out and found a trolley with four working wheels.

‘You’d think in a place like this they’d have someone who could fix them.’

‘What are we doing here?’

‘I need a few things.’

‘You need provisions, not bags of plaster.’

Rebus turned to him. ‘That’s just where you’re wrong.’

He bought paint, rollers and brushes, turps, a couple of ground-sheets, plaster, a hot-air gun, sandpaper (coarse and fine), and varnish, sticking it all on his credit card. Then he treated Jack to lunch at a nearby café, a haunt of his from St Leonard’s days.

And afterwards: home. Jack helped him carry everything upstairs.

‘Brought any old clothes with you?’ Rebus asked.

‘I’ve a boilersuit in the boot.’

‘Better bring it up.’ Rebus stopped, stared at his open door, dropped the paint and ran into the flat. A quick check told him there was no one there. Jack was examining the jamb.

‘Looks like someone took a crowbar to it,’ he said. ‘What’s missing?’

‘The hi-fi and telly are still there.’

Jack walked in, checked the rooms. ‘Looks much the same as when we left it. Want to call it in?’

‘Why? We both know this is Ancram trying to rattle me.’

‘I don’t see that.’

‘No? Funny I get a break-in when I’m being interrogated by him.’

‘We should call it in, that way the insurance will cover you for a new door-frame.’ Jack looked around him. ‘Surprised nobody heard it.’

‘Deaf neighbours,’ Rebus said. ‘Edinburgh’s famous for them. All right, we’ll call it in. You go back to the store and fetch another lock or something.’

‘And what will you be doing?’