Ancram looked like he should have been fitted with a pressure valve. He was so angry he’d almost swung all the way round to calm. His voice was the first wisp of smoke from a sleeping volcano.

‘What is it?’

Rebus was trying to hand him a sheet of paper, folded in half. They were in Ancram’s office. Ancram was seated, Rebus and Jack standing.

‘Look and see,’ Rebus said.

Ancram stared at him, then unfolded the headed note.

‘It’s a doctor’s line,’ Rebus explained. ‘Forty-eight-hour stomach bug. Dr Curt was very clear that I should isolate myself. He said it could be catching.’

When he spoke, Ancram’s voice was little more than whisper. ‘Since when do pathologists hand out sick notes?’

‘You haven’t seen the queues at my health centre.’

Ancram crunched the note into a ball.

‘It’s dated and everything,’ Rebus said. Of course it was: Dr Curt had been their last call before heading north with Eve.

‘Shut up, sit down, and listen to me while I tell you why you’re on an official reprimand. And don’t think a reprimand’s going to be the end of the affair.’

‘Maybe you should read this first, sir,’ Jack said, handing over Geddes’ letter.

‘What is it?’

‘Not so much the end of the affair, sir,’ Rebus told him, ‘more like the heart of the matter. While you’re digesting it, maybe I could have a browse through the files.’

‘Why?’

‘Those Borneo pics, I’d like another look.’

After the first few sentences of Lawson Geddes’ confession, Ancram was hooked. Rebus could have walked out unnoticed with the files under his arm. But instead he slipped the photos out of their packet and went through them, checking the back of each for identifying names.

In one photo, third from the left was marked as Pvt. Sloane, R. Rebus stared at the face. Slightly blurred, with some water damage and fading. A fresh-faced young man, not long out of teens, his smile slightly crooked, maybe the fault of his teeth.

Bible John had one tooth which overlapped another, according to the eye-witness.

Rebus shook his head. That really was stretching the evidence, and Lawson Geddes had done enough of that in his time for both of them. Without knowing exactly why, and checking first that Ancram was still immersed in the letter, Rebus slid the photo into his pocket.

‘Well,’ Ancram said at last, ‘this will obviously have to be discussed.’

‘Obviously, sir. No interview today then?’

‘Just a couple of questions. Number one, what the devil happened to your nose and tooth?’

‘I got too close to a fist. Anything else, sir?’

‘Yes, what the hell have you been doing with Jack?’

Rebus turned, saw what Ancram meant: Jack fast asleep on a chair by the wall.

‘So,’ Jack said, ‘this is the big challenge.’

They’d come to the Oxford Bar, just for somewhere to be. Rebus ordered two orange juices, then turned to Jack. ‘You want some breakfast?’ Jack nodded. ‘And four packets of crisps, any flavour,’ Rebus told the barmaid.