They were standing in front of the cars. Rebus recognized the Citroën—the line was still there where he had dragged a finger across its bodywork. The dust sheet that had been covering the Renault was visible through its rear window.

“What about the other drivers?”

Rebus listened to Bairstow’s description. One was almost certainly the guard from the multistory, the one who had left Rebus with a bruise the size of a tea plate.

“They left the keys?”

Bairstow dug in his overalls and held them up.

“Have you taken a look yet?”

The man shook his head.

“Sure about that?”

“Completely.”

“Then let’s get both boots open and see what we’ve got.”

They unlocked the Citroën first. Rebus could smell some sort of oil. There were strips of cloth inside and he lifted one to his nose.

“What do you think?” Fox asked.

“Been wrapped around something. Maybe guns.”

“Guns?” The blood drained from the mechanic’s face.

Rebus lifted the carpeting but found nothing except a spare tire. Fox meantime had opened one of the rear doors and was feeling around beneath the seats.

“Got any plastic bags?” he asked.

“In the office,” Bairstow said.

“Go fetch some.”

When the mechanic had moved off, Fox told Rebus they really needed a forensics team.

“Agreed. You finding anything?”

“I’ll show you in a minute.”

Rebus opened the driver’s door and reached across to open the glove box. Nothing inside but a spare set of bulbs. The floor was clean and the door pockets were empty. Bairstow had returned with some small clear bags, the kind bank staff used when counting coins. Fox placed his hand into one of them and used it to pick something up from the floor, folding the bag back over the item, trapping it. Then he held it up for Rebus to examine. An unused shotgun cartridge.

“Boom,” Rebus said, patting his colleague on the back. He took the second key from Bairstow and unlocked the Renault. Again, there was nothing obvious in the boot, other than the remains of some fine white powder.

“Looks like a bag maybe burst,” Rebus commented.

“Or someone needed a taste,” Fox added.

Rebus dabbed at a little and rubbed it against his gum. “Bit of a burn,” he said.

Bairstow’s eyes widened further. “I didn’t…If I’d known…They’ll kill me, won’t they?” He was beginning to twitch.

“Your name won’t even feature, Reece—don’t worry.” Rebus took out his phone. The signal was weak, but he got through to Torphichen and asked to speak to Nick Ralph. “And I know you probably hear it all the time, but this really is urgent.”