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.

“You reckon he’ll come after you?” Rebus asked, sliding into the cubicle. Clarke was fetching drinks from the counter—orange juice for her and tea for him.

“You didn’t say you’d be bringing anyone,” Hammell snapped back.

“She’s not here—not officially.” Rebus slid further over to make room for Clarke, who offered a nod of greeting to Hammell, a greeting he ignored, focusing on a couple of newcomers to the restaurant.

“I reckon the little turd’s capable of anything,” he muttered eventually, in answer to Rebus’s original question.

“Wouldn’t he have made his move at the club?”

Hammell shook his head. “Too many witnesses.”

“You’ve obviously given it some thought.”

“What else am I going to do? If I so much as pick up the phone to Gail, he says he’ll tell her about Annette and me. He’s even got keys to my house…” Hammell’s eyes were filling with anger. “If I can just get him on his own, I’ll throttle the bastard.”

“Duly noted. But how about if we take him instead?”