They were seated around a table in one of the conference rooms – Lauderdale’s idea. No doubt an interview room wasn’t good enough for Sir Hugh Ferrie. Gregor Jack had been smartened up for the occasion: crisp suit, tidied hair, sparkling eyes. Seated, however, between Sir Hugh and Jeanette Oliphant, he was always going to come home third in the projection stakes.

‘The point is,’ said Jeanette Oliphant, ‘Mr Jack told Sir Hugh about something else he’d been keeping secret, namely that his Wednesday round of golf was a concoction.’

‘Bloody fool –’

‘And,’ Oliphant went on, a little more loudly, ‘Sir Hugh contacted me. We feel that the sooner Mr Jack makes a statement regarding his genuine actions on the day in question, the less doubt there will be.’ Jeanette Oliphant was in her mid-fifties, a tall, elegant, but stern-faced woman. Her mouth was a thin slash of lipstick, her eyes piercing, missing nothing. Her ears stuck out ever so slightly from her short permed hair, as though ready to catch any nuance or ambiguity, any wrong word or overlong pause.

Sir Hugh, on the other hand, was stocky and pugnacious, a man more used to speaking than listening. His hands lay flat against the table top, as though they were attempting to push through it.

‘Let’s get everything sorted out,’ he said.

‘If that’s what Mr Jack wants,’ Lauderdale said quietly.

‘It’s what he wants,’ replied Ferrie.

The door opened. It was Detective Sergeant Brian Holmes, carrying a tray of cups. Rebus looked up at him, but Holmes refused to meet his eyes. Not normally a DS’s job, playing waiter, but Rebus could just see Holmes waylaying the real tea-boy. He wanted to know what was going on. So, it seemed, did Chief Superintendent Watson, who came into the room behind him. Ferrie actually half rose from his chair.

‘Ah, Chief Superintendent.’ They shook hands. Watson glanced from Lauderdale to Rebus and back, but there was nothing they could tell him, not yet. Holmes, having laid the tray on the table, was lingering.

‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ said Lauderdale, dismissing him from the room. In the general mêlée, Rebus saw that Gregor Jack was looking at him, looking with his sparkling eyes and his little boy’s smile. Here we are again, he was saying. Here we are again.

Watson decided to stay. Another cup would be needed, but then Rebus declined the offer of tea, so there was a cup for Watson after all. It was obvious from his face that he would have preferred coffee, his own coffee. But he accepted the cup from Rebus with a nodded thanks. Then Gregor Jack spoke.

‘After Inspector Rebus’s last visit, I did some thinking. I was able to recall the names of some of the places I went to that Wednesday . . .’ He reached into his jacket’s inside pocket and drew out a piece of paper. ‘I looked in on a bar in Eyemouth itself, but it was packed. I didn’t stay. I did have a tomato juice at a hotel outside the town, but again the bar there was packed, so I can’t be sure anyone will remember me. And I bought chewing gum at a newsagent’s in Dunbar on the way down. Apart from that, I’m afraid it’s pretty vague.’ He handed the list to the Chief Superintendent. ‘A walk along the front at Eyemouth . . . a stop in a lay-by just north of Berwick . . . there was another car in the lay-by, a rep or something, but he seemed more interested in his maps than he did in me . . . That’s about it.’