‘It’s straight into the top five. Listen, Brian, there’s a problem.’ He held up his right hand. ‘Fan.’ Then his left. ‘Shit.’ He clapped both hands together. The sound reverberated through the warehouse.

‘Tell me.’

‘The CC Rider’s opening an inquiry into the Spaven case, prior to reopening the case itself. And he’s managed to put in charge someone I recently rubbed up the wrong way.’

‘Silly you.’

‘Silly me. So no doubt they’ll be down here some day soon to lift the casenotes. And I don’t want them lifting you.’

Holmes looked at the bulging files, the faded black ink on each cover. ‘The files could get lost, couldn’t they?’

‘They could. Two problems. One, that would look highly suspicious. Two, I’m assuming Mr Clipboard knows which files you’ve been consulting.’

‘That’s true,’ Holmes conceded. ‘And it went down on his sheet.’

‘Along with your name.’

‘We could try slipping him some cash.’

‘He doesn’t look the type. He’s not in this for money, is he?’

Holmes looked thoughtful. He also looked terrible: unevenly shaven, his hair uncombed and needing a trim. The bags under his eyes could have carried half a hundredweight of coal.

‘Look,’ he said at last, ‘I’m halfway through … more than halfway. If I burn the candle tonight, maybe speed up my reading, I could have it finished by tomorrow.’

Rebus nodded slowly. ‘What do you think so far?’ He was almost scared to touch the files, to flip through them. It wasn’t history, it was archaeology.

‘I think your typing hasn’t improved. Straight answer: there’s something dodgy going on, that much I can read between the lines. I can see exactly where you’re covering up, rewriting the true story to fit your version. You weren’t quite so subtle in those days. Geddes’ version reads better, more confident. He glosses over stuff, he’s not afraid to understate. What I’d like to know is, what was the story with him and Spaven in the first place? I know you told me they served together in Burma or somewhere; how did they come to fall out? See, if we knew that, we’d know how valid the chip on Geddes’ shoulder was, and maybe how far it would take him.’

Rebus clapped his hands again, this time in muffled applause.

‘That’s good going.’

‘So give me another day, see what else I come up with. John, I want to do this for you.’

‘And if they catch you?’

‘I’ll talk my way out, don’t worry.’

Rebus’s pager sounded. He looked to Holmes.

‘Sooner you go,’ Holmes said, ‘sooner I can get back to it.’

Rebus patted him on the shoulder and headed back along the stacks. Brian Holmes: friend. Difficult to equate with the person who had roughed up Mental Minto. Schizophrenia, the policeman’s ally: a dual personality came in handy …

He asked the clerk if he could use a telephone. There was one on the wall. He called in.

‘DI Rebus.’

‘Yes, Inspector, apparently you’ve been trying to reach DCI Templer.’