‘Has Ms Cudden explained the situation, Mr Toal?’ Malky nodded. ‘I’m not interested in the pair of you, but I am interested in everything else. You slipped up, but you can still get out of this, same as you’ve been planning all along.’ Rebus tried not to look at Eve, who was looking anywhere but at lovelorn Stanley. Christ, she was a tough one. Rebus really had taken a liking to her; he almost liked her better now than he had that night in the bar. Jack nodded that the recorder was running.

‘OK, now we’re recording I’d like to make it clear that this is for my own personal insurance, and won’t be used against the pair of you at any time, so long as you clear off afterwards. I’d like you to introduce yourselves.’ They did, Jack checking the levels and adjusting them.

‘I’m Detective Inspector John Rebus,’ Rebus said, ‘and with me is Detective Inspector Jack Morton.’ He paused, pulled out the third chair at the table and sat down, Eve to his right, Toal to his left. ‘Let’s start with that night in the hotel bar, Ms Cudden. I’m not a great believer in coincidence.’

Eve blinked. She’d expected the questions to relate to Malky alone. Now she saw that Rebus really was going to have some insurance.

‘It wasn’t coincidence,’ she said, fumbling for another Sobranie. The packet slipped, and Toal picked it up, taking out a cigarette, lighting it for her, then handing it over. She could hardly bear to take it – or else wanted Rebus to think that. But Rebus was looking at Toal, surprised by the gesture. There was unexpected affection in ‘Mad Malky’, a real joy at being close to his lover, even in the present situation. He seemed very different from the scowling complainer Rebus had met at the Ponderosa: younger now, face shining, eyes wide. Hard to believe he could kill in cold blood – but not impossible. He was dressed in the same awful non-style of their previous meeting – the trousers from a shell-suit with an orange leather jacket and a blue patterned shirt, set off with scuffed black slip-on shoes. His mouth moved like he was chewing gum, even though he wasn’t. He sat low in the chair, legs open, hands resting between his thighs, high up near the crotch.

‘It was planned,’ Eve went on. ‘Well, sort of. I thought there was a good chance you’d hit the bar before you went to bed.’

‘How come?’

‘The word is, you like to drink.’

‘Says who?’

She shrugged.

‘How did you know which hotel I’d be in?’

‘I was told.’

‘Who by?’

‘The Yanks.’

‘Tell me their names.’ By the book, John.

‘Judd Fuller, Erik Stemmons.’

‘They both told you?’

‘Stemmons specifically.’ She smiled. ‘Coward that he is.’

‘Go on.’

‘I think he thought handing you to us was a better option than putting Fuller on to you.’

‘Because Fuller would have been harder on me?’