“What’s this?” Peter Meikle asked, his left hand gripping the Saab’s door handle, as if to stop it being opened from outside.

“This is where we say goodbye.”

“That’s Darryl Christie,” Meikle spluttered.

“Darryl owes me a favor, Peter, and I’ve decided you’re it. Now out you get.”

“What?”

“You’re going with them.” Rebus nodded towards the Evoque. “I’m too old and too tired. All the stuff I used to be able to do to you, they still can. And afterwards, there’ll be a nice quiet spot for your bones.”

“You can’t do this!”

“Why not?”

“You’re the police!”

Rebus leaned towards him, face tightening. “I’m from the eighties, Peter—I’m not the newfangled touchy-feely model. Now get out of my fucking car!”

When Meikle, wide-eyed, looked through the passenger window, he saw Christie and the man-monster standing right there. Then his door was being wrenched open, despite his best efforts, and Rebus was helpfully unclipping his seat belt.

“No!” he pleaded as he was hauled out of the car. One of his cheap slip-on shoes came off and lay there on the floor. He was dragged to the Evoque and shoved onto its backseat, the bodyguard climbing in next to him. Rebus wound down his window and got a cigarette going. Then he watched as Christie pulled shut the driver’s-side door and the car moved off. As it disappeared around a bend, his phone rang.

“Hiya, Siobhan,” he said. “We still on for tonight?”

“Can we not find anywhere more salubrious than the back room of the Ox?”

“That’s a deal-breaker for me.”

“Fine, then.” She sighed. “Eight thirty?”

“I might be first to arrive.”

“You’re on your way there now?”

“Not quite. Can Malcolm definitely come?”

“Says he’s looking forward to it.”

“The management might feel differently if he sticks to drinking Coke.”

“I dare say you and me can make up for him.”

“I dare say.” Rebus allowed himself a smile, flicking ash from the window.

“You somewhere with a breeze?”

“Taking the air.”

“Next few weeks might be uncomfortable. Lot of questions are going to be asked.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Maybe we can compare notes when we meet?”

“Are you sure that isn’t against the rules?”

“I suppose it might be. Lucky we’ve got Malcolm to keep us on the straight and narrow.”

“Best place to be, Siobhan.”

“I’ve called Laura Smith and given her a heads-up. Reckoned she just about deserves it.”

“You never know when you might need a friendly journalist. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Tapas afterwards at Café Andaluz?”

“Couple of drinks is all I can manage.”

“Other plans?” She paused. “Don’t tell me you’ve got a date?”

“You better not be about to tell me I’m too old.”

“Who is it?”

“Am I not allowed a private life?”

“You know I’m going to keep digging.”