“Who else is going to be there for you, Forbes?” Rebus stretched out his arms to reinforce the point.

“Well there’s always me.”

This time the voice came from behind Rebus. He turned just as Owen Traynor reached the landing. Jessica emerged limping from the flat, brushing Rebus aside and throwing herself into her father’s embrace. He ran his hand down her hair, eyes on Rebus.

“You can bugger off now,” he said. “I need a quiet word with my daughter and her friends.”

“You can’t get involved in this,” Rebus warned him.

“Involved in what?” Traynor made show of widening his eyes.

“This isn’t your fight.”

Traynor, draping an arm around Jessica’s shoulders, began to steer her past Rebus into the flat.

“We’ll be fine now, thank you, Officer,” Traynor said. “Shut the door, Forbes, there’s a good lad.”

McCuskey had the good grace to look apologetic as he obeyed the Englishman’s command. Rebus shook his head slowly, steadily, until Forbes McCuskey disappeared from view. The click of the Yale lock echoed around the stairwell. He cursed under his breath, then took out a handkerchief and began rubbing the paint from his hand.

Christine Esson was busy at her desk when Rebus reached Gayfield Square.

“MisPers,” she informed him when he took a look over her shoulder at her computer screen. “Lots and lots of them—so thanks for that.”

“Don’t blame me if you’re the IT wizard around here.”

“Judging by the autopsy photos, it’s an archaeologist we need.”

“Maybe put out a call for tombs that have been raided lately.” Rebus patted her shoulder before settling himself at his own desk. He had checked the damage to his stomach, studying it with the help of the mirror in the toilets. The bruise was already forming, but he doubted any real harm had been done, other than to his pride. From what he’d seen of the cars in the multistory, none had been attacked by a crowbar. Just the one then—the one since removed from the scene. Drugs, he was thinking. They were the obvious answer. Could Forbes McCuskey have lifted them? Spotted on CCTV, the guard waking up and bellowing a warning over one of the loudspeakers. McCuskey and Jessica Traynor getting the hell out of there. But the barrier would have stopped them. And the machine only accepted credit cards. Meaning Rory Bell would have their faces and the license plate from the CCTV, plus the card details. Easy enough to trace them. Especially if Forbes McCuskey’s card was registered to his parents’ home address…

But now Owen Traynor had entered the picture, and that was a complication. If he did a deal with Bell, the case would cease to exist—along with the evidence. Rebus had to do something. He looked towards Page’s office, but the man was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Mr. Happy?” he asked.