But he wasn’t the only one with an interest in Johnny. Someone had broken into his flat. Someone had been checking library records. Someone using a false identity. Someone with something to hide. Not a reporter, not another policeman. Could Bible John really be out there still? Dormant somewhere until brought to life by Johnny Bible? Enraged by the act of imitation, by its temerity and the cold fact that it brought the original case back up into the light? Not only enraged, but feeling endangered, too – externally and internally: fear of being recognised and caught; fear of not being the bogeyman any longer.

A new bogeyman for the nineties, someone to be scared of again. One mythology erased and replaced by another.

Yes, Rebus could feel it. He could sense Bible John’s hostility to the young pretender. No flattery in imitation, none at all …

And he knows where I live, Rebus thought. He’s been there, touched my obsession, and wondered how far I’m willing to take it. But why? Why would he place himself in danger like that, breaking into a flat in the middle of the day? Looking for what exactly? Looking for something in particular? But what? Rebus turned the question over in his mind, wondered if a drink would help, got as far as the safe before turning back, standing there in the middle of the room, his whole body crackling with need.

The hotel felt asleep; easy to imagine the whole country asleep and dreaming blameless dreams. Stemmons and Fuller, Uncle Joe, Major Weir, Johnny Bible … everyone was innocent in sleep. Rebus walked over to the connecting door and unlocked it. Eve’s door was slightly ajar. Silently, he pushed it wide open. Her room was in darkness, curtains closed. Light from his own room lay like an arrow along the floor, pointing towards the king-size bed. She lay on her side, one arm on top of the covers. Her eyes were closed. He took one step into her room, not merely a voyeur now but an intruder. Then he just stood there, watching her. Maybe he’d have stayed that way for long minutes.

‘Wondered how long it would take you,’ she said.

Rebus walked across to her bed. She reached both arms up to him. She was naked beneath the covers, warm and sweet-smelling. He sat down on the bed, took her hands in his.

‘Eve,’ he said quietly, ‘I need one favour from you before you go.’

She sat up. ‘Not counting this?’

‘Not counting this.’

‘What?’

‘I want you to phone Judd Fuller. Tell him you need to see him.’

‘You should stay away from him.’

‘I know.’

She sighed. ‘But you can’t?’ He nodded, and she touched his cheek with the back of her hand. ‘OK, but now I want a favour in return.’

‘What?’

‘Take the rest of the night off,’ she said, pulling him towards her.

He woke up alone in her bed, and it was morning. He checked to see if she’d left a note or anything, but of course she hadn’t: she wasn’t the type.