“Hello, Rebus,” Fox said. There was a plate in front of him, nothing on it but banana peel. The glass next to it contained tap water from the jug by the cash till.

“Thought maybe we should meet properly.” Rebus took a mouthful of Irn-Bru and stifled a belch.

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“We work in the same building: any reason we can’t be sitting together?”

“Every reason.” There was nothing confrontational in Fox’s style, no emotion when he spoke. He had the casual confidence of someone who knew they were on another plane from those around them.

“Because you’re putting together a file on me?”

“Today’s police force is very different from the one you got used to. Methods have changed, and so have attitudes.” Fox paused. “Do you really think you’d fit in?”

“You’re telling me not to bother reapplying?”

“That’s a decision only you can make.”

“Who was it told you about me and Cafferty?”

Fox’s face changed slightly, and Rebus realized he’d made a mistake. The man knew where Rebus had got that gen: Siobhan Clarke. A black mark against her.

“Ask yourself this,” Rebus plowed on. “Could it have been Cafferty himself? Using an intermediary? Just to screw up my chances.”

“Better if you’d simply kept clear of him in the first place.”

“Hard to disagree.”

“So why didn’t you?”

“Maybe I was hoping he might let something slip—I work cold cases, remember.”

“And has he?”

Rebus shook his head. “Not so far. But the amount of skeletons around Cafferty, there’s always a chance.”

Fox looked thoughtful as he sipped his water. Rebus unwrapped the wafer and bit into it.

“The file on you,” Fox said eventually, “goes back to the 1970s. In fact, to call it a ‘file’ is doing it an injustice; it takes up one whole shelf.”

“I’ve been called into the headmaster’s office a few times,” Rebus conceded. “Never been given my jotters, though.”

“I wonder: is that down to luck or guile?”

“There was always a good reason why I did what I did—and it got results. The High Hiedyins recognized that.”

“‘Room should always be made for one maverick,’” Fox quoted. “That’s what a former Chief Constable wrote about you. He underlined the ‘one.’”

“I got results,” Rebus repeated.

“And what about now? Think you can break cases without bending a few rules along the way? We’ve no room for even one maverick these days.”

Rebus shrugged. Fox spent a moment studying him.

“You’re on secondment to Gayfield Square,” he said. “That brings you back into contact with DI Clarke.”

“So?”

“Since you retired, she’s managed to unlearn some of the stuff you taught her. She’s going to keep rising through the ranks.” Fox paused. “Unless…”

“You’re saying I’m a bad influence? Siobhan’s her own woman. That’s not about to change just because I’m around for a week or two.”

“I hope not. But back in the day, she covered up for you a few times, didn’t she?”