“You might have to,” Rebus stated calmly. “What’s more, I think it’ll be worth it.”

“I’m not a grass, Rebus.”

“I’m not asking you to be one. I just need you to answer a question—it’s not even a question about Darryl.”

“And?”

“And a spot of payback might well be forthcoming.”

There was silence on the line as Hammell considered this. Rebus listened to him exhale. “What’s the question?”

“There may be a follow-up, depending on how you answer.”

“Just ask me the damned question.”

“Okay, then.” One of the kids opposite had come to the window. They waved at Rebus. He waved back. “Where would you bury a body?” he asked Hammell, as the kid waved again, this time with a huge gap-toothed grin.

A forest…

Rebus was leaving his tenement building, pulling the door shut behind him, when he saw Siobhan Clarke standing on the pavement.

“Got Page with you?” he asked, looking to left and right.

“No.”

“So what can I do for you?”

“I was a bit worried, that’s all.”

“Worried?”

“You’ve fallen off the radar.”

“Maybe it escaped your attention, but I’m not on the books any more.”

“All the same…”

“What?”

She studied him closely. “I was right. You’ve got that look in your eyes. Something’s brewing.”

“Nothing’s brewing.”

“And suddenly he gets all defensive…”

He opened his arms in a show of innocence, but he wasn’t fooling her.

“Where are you off to?” she asked.

“Just out.”

“Mind if I tag along?”

“Yes.”

“Not heading to the pub, then.”

“Christ’s sake, Siobhan…” Rebus made an exasperated sound. “There’s just something I have to do.”

“Does it happen to involve Kenny Magrath?”

“It might,” he conceded.

“And naturally you’ll be sticking to the letter of the law?”

“I’m not the police; I’m not even a civvy working for the police.”

“And having a real-life detective along for the ride wouldn’t help at all?”

He stared at her, then shook his head slowly. “You should listen to Fox, Siobhan. To keep rising through the ranks, you need to steer well clear of the likes of me.” He prodded his chest with his thumb to drive the point home.

“A rise through the ranks that turns me into the likes of James Page or Malcolm Fox?” She made show of considering this. “Somehow your way of doing things is just that bit more fun.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head again.

“Yes,” Clarke countered. “Tell me what you’ve got in mind.”

Rebus rubbed at his jaw. “If I do, will you bugger off home and leave me to it?”

It was her turn to shake her head.

“Thought not,” he said.

Frank Hammell was waiting for them in a fast-food restaurant next to a petrol station. The place was brightly lit, showing how much color Hammell had lost from his face. His hair needed combing, and gray stubble showed on his cheeks. He was nursing a coffee, the burger in front of him not even half eaten, and his eyes darted everywhere, his whole body seeming to tense with each new customer through the door.