‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning I don’t see you and Malky as an item, not long-term. He’s too thick for you, and he’ll never be rich enough to make up for that. I can see what he sees in you: you’re an accomplished seducer.’

‘Not that accomplished.’ Her eyes found his.

‘Pretty good though. Good enough to hook Malky. Good enough to talk him into skimming from the Aberdeen money. Let me guess: your story was that the two of you would bugger off together when there was enough set by?’

‘My language may not have matched yours.’ Her eyes were calculating slits, but the smile had gone. She knew Rebus was going to deal; she wouldn’t be here otherwise. She was wondering what she could get away with.

‘But you wouldn’t, right? Just between us, you were planning to clear off by yourself.’

‘Was I?’

‘I’m banking on it.’ He stood up, walked towards her. ‘I don’t want you, Eve. Good fucking luck to you, I say. Take the money and run.’ He lowered his voice. ‘But I want Malky. I want him for Tony El. And I want the answers to some questions. When he gets here, you’re going to talk to him. You’re going to persuade him to cooperate. Then we’ll talk, and it’ll go down on tape.’ Her eyes widened. ‘The story is, it’s my insurance in case you decide to stick around.’

‘But in reality?’

‘It’ll take Malky down, and Uncle Joe with him.’

‘And I walk away?’

‘Promise.’

‘How do I know I can trust you?’

‘I’m a gentleman, remember? You said as much in the bar.’

She smiled again, her eyes not moving from his. She looked like a cat: same morals, same instinct. Then she nodded her head.

Malcolm Toal arrived at the station fifteen minutes later, and Rebus left him with Eve in an interview room. The station was evening quiet, not yet late enough for pub rowdies, knife fights, blow-ups before bed. Jack asked Rebus how he wanted to play it.

‘Just sit there and look like everything I say is the word of God, that’ll be good enough for me.’

‘And if Stanley makes a move?’

‘We can handle him.’ He’d already told Eve to find out if Malky was carrying. If he was, Rebus wanted the weaponry on the table by the time he returned. He went into the toilets again, just to steady his breathing and look at himself in the mirror. He tried to relax his jaw muscles. In the past, he’d have been reaching for the quarter-bottle of whisky in his pocket. But tonight there was no quarter-bottle, no Dutch courage. Which meant for once he’d be relying on the real thing.

Back in the interview room, Malky looked at him with eyes like lasers, proof that Eve had said her piece. Two Stanley knives lay on the table. Rebus nodded, satisfied. Jack was busy setting up the recorder and breaking the seals on a couple of tapes.