‘Doesn’t the sea look blue?’

‘Same colour you’d turn after two more minutes out there.’

‘And the sky … incredible.’

‘Don’t go New Age on me, Jack. Let’s get these suits off. I think our escort with the Escort has just arrived.’

Only it was an Astra, snug with three of them inside, especially when the uniformed driver was built like a rock formation. His head – minus the diced cap – brushed the roof of the car. The voice was the same as on the telephone. He’d shaken Rebus’s hand as though greeting some foreign emissary.

‘Have you been to Shetland before?’

Jack shook his head; Rebus admitted he’d been once, but added no further details.

‘And where would you like me to take you?’

‘Back to your base,’ Rebus said from the cramped back seat. ‘We’ll drop you off and turn the car in when we’re finished.’

The woolly suit – whose name was Alexander Forres – boomed his disappointment. ‘But I’ve been two decades on the force.’

‘Yes?’

‘This would be my first murder inquiry!’

‘Look, Sergeant Forres, we’re only here to talk to a friend of the victim. It’s background – routine and boring as hell.’

‘Ach, all the same … I was quite looking forward to it.’

They were heading up the A970 to Lerwick, twenty-odd miles north of Sumburgh. The wind buffeted them, Forres’ huge hands tight on the steering-wheel, like an ogre choking an infant. Rebus decided to change the subject.

‘Nice road.’

‘Paid for with oil money,’ Forres said.

‘How do you like being ruled from Inverness?’

‘Who says we are? You think they come checking up on us every week of the year?’

‘I’d guess not.’

‘You’d guess right, Inspector. It’s like Lothian and Borders – how often does someone from Fettes bother travelling down to Hawick?’ Forres looked at Rebus in the rearview. ‘Don’t go thinking we’re all idiots up here, with just enough sense to set light to the boat come Up-Helly-Aa.’

‘Up-Helly what?’

Jack turned towards him. ‘You know, John, where they burn a longboat.’

‘Last Tuesday in January,’ Forres said.

‘Odd form of central heating,’ Rebus muttered.

‘He’s a born cynic,’ Jack told the sergeant.

‘Well, it’d be sad for him if he died one.’ Forres’ eyes were still on the rearview.

On the outskirts of Lerwick, they passed ugly pre-fabricated buildings which Rebus guessed were connected to the oil industry. The police station itself was in the New Town. They dropped Forres off, and he went in to fetch them a map of Mainland.

‘Not that you could get very lost,’ he’d told them. ‘There are only the three big roads to worry about.’

Rebus looked at the map and saw what he meant. Mainland comprised a shape in the vague form of a cross, the A970 its spine, the 971 and 968 its arms. Brae was as far north again as they’d just come. Rebus was going to be driving, Jack navigating – Jack’s decision; he said it would give him a chance to sight-see.