Same old problem. In law, knowing was not enough. Scots law was stricter still: there must needs be corroboration.

‘Maybe next time, eh?’ Rebus offered, putting down the phone.

They drove back to the flat so Jack could pick up his car, but then he had to climb the stairs with Rebus, having forgotten some of his kit.

‘Are you ever going to leave me alone?’ Rebus asked.

Jack laughed. ‘Starting any minute.’

‘Well, while you’re here you can help me shift the stuff back into the living room.’

It didn’t take long. The last thing Rebus did was hook the fishing-boat back on the wall.

‘So what now?’ Jack asked.

‘I suppose I could see about getting this tooth fixed. And I said I’d meet up with Gill.’

‘Business or pleasure?’

‘Strictly off-duty.’

‘A fiver says you end up talking shop.’

Rebus smiled. ‘Five says you’re on. What about you?’

‘Ach, I thought while I’m in town I might check out the local AA, see if there’s a meeting. It’s been too long.’ Rebus nodded. ‘Want to tag along?’

Rebus looked up, nodded. ‘Why not?’ he said.

‘The other thing we could do is keep on with the decorating.’

Rebus wrinkled his nose. ‘The mood’s passed.’

‘You’re not going to sell?’ Rebus shook his head. ‘No cottage by the sea?’

‘I think I’ll settle for where I am, Jack. It seems to suit me.’

‘And where’s that exactly?’

Rebus considered his answer. ‘Somewhere north of hell.’

He got back from his Sunday walk with Gill Templer and stuck a fiver in an envelope, addressed it to Jack Morton. Gill and he had talked about the Toals and the Americans, about how they’d go down on the strength of the tape. Rebus’s word might not be enough to convict Hayden Fletcher of conspiracy to murder, but he’d have a damned good go. Fletcher was being brought south for questioning. Rebus had a busy week ahead. His telephone rang as he was tidying the living room.

‘John?’ the voice said. ‘It’s Brian.’

‘Everything all right?’

‘Fine.’ But Brian’s voice was hollow. ‘I just thought I’d … the thing is … I’m putting in my papers.’ A pause. ‘Isn’t that what they say?’

‘Jesus, Brian …’

‘Thing is, I’ve tried to learn from you, but I’m not sure you were the right choice. A bit too intense maybe, eh? See, whatever it is you’ve got, John, I just don’t have it.’ A longer pause. ‘And I’m not sure I even want it, to be honest.’

‘You don’t have to be like me to be a good copper, Brian. Some would say you should strive to be what I’m not.’

‘Well … I’ve tried both sides of the fence, hell, I’ve even tried sitting on the fence. No good, any of it.’

‘I’m sorry, Brian.’

‘Catch you later, eh?’

‘Sure thing, son. Take care.’

He sat down in his chair, stared out of the window. A bright summer’s afternoon, a good time to go for a walk through the Meadows. Only Rebus had just come back from a walk. Did he really want another? His phone rang again and he let the machine take it. He waited for a message, but all he could hear was static crackle, background hiss. There was someone there; they hadn’t broken the connection. But they weren’t about to leave a message. Rebus placed a hand on the receiver, paused, then lifted it.