‘Not really.’ Rebus had finished his drink, waved his glass to signal as much. Harry put down the tea-cloth and started pouring. Rebus felt awkward. He didn’t like Gill being here like this, dropping in and catching him off-guard. He didn’t like that the regulars were listening to every word. Gill seemed to sense his discomfort.

‘Would you rather we did this at the office?’

He shrugged again. ‘How about you?’ he asked. ‘Enjoying the new job?’

‘I think I’ll manage.’

‘I’d put money on it.’ He pointed to her glass, offered a refill. Gill shook her head. ‘I should be going. This was just a quick one before home.’

‘Same here.’ Rebus made a show of checking his watch.

‘I’ve got the car outside … ?’

Rebus shook his head. ‘I like to walk, keeps me fit.’

Behind the bar, Harry snorted. Gill wrapped the scarf back around her neck.

‘Maybe see you tomorrow then,’ she said.

‘You know where my office is.’

She studied her surroundings – walls the colour of a used cigarette-filter, dusty prints of Robert Burns – and began to nod. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I do.’ Then she gave a little wave which seemed to take in the whole bar, and was gone.

‘Your boss?’ Harry guessed. Rebus nodded. ‘Swap you,’ the barman said. The regulars started laughing. Another student appeared from the back room, the list of required drinks scribbled on the back of an envelope.

‘Three IPA,’ Harry began to recite, ‘two lager tops, a gin, lime and soda, two Becks and a dry white wine.’

The student looked at the note, then nodded in amazement. Harry winked at his audience.

‘Might be students, but they’re not the only smart bastards round here.’

Siobhan sat in her living room, staring at the message on the laptop’s screen. It was in response to an e-mail she’d sent to Quizmaster, informing him that she was now working on the second clue.

I forgot to tell you, from now on you’re against the clock. In twenty-four hours’ time, the next clue becomes void.

Siobhan got to work on the keyboard: I think we should meet. I have some questions. She hit ‘send’, then waited. His reply was prompt.

The game will answer your questions.

She hit more keys: Did Flip have anyone helping her? Is anyone else playing the game?

She waited for several minutes. Nothing. She was in the kitchen, pouring another half-glass of Chilean red, when she heard the laptop telling her she had a message. Wine splashed on to the back of her hand as she dashed back through.

Hello, Siobhan.

She stared at the screen. The sender’s address was a series of numbers. Before she could reply, the computer told her she had another message.

Are you there? Your light’s on.