‘Well, I don’t want to keep you, only I’ve just had a very interesting phone call.’

‘One of your contacts?’

‘Another early riser. He’s in the middle of writing a book about the Knights Templar, connecting them to the Masons. That’s probably why he saw it straight away.’

Siobhan was in the kitchen now. She checked there was water in the kettle and switched it on. Enough instant coffee in the jar for maybe two or three cups. She had to do a supermarket run one of these days. Crumbs of chocolate on the worktop. She pressed her finger to them, lifting them to her mouth.

‘Saw what?’ she said.

The Farmer started laughing. ‘You’re not awake yet, are you?’

‘A bit groggy, that’s all.’

‘Late night?’

‘Maybe one Rolo too many. Saw what, sir?’

‘The clue. It’s a reference to Rosslyn Chapel. You know where that is?’

‘I was there not too long ago.’ Another case; one she’d worked with Rebus.

‘Then maybe you saw it: one of the windows apparently is decorated with carvings of maize.’

‘I don’t remember.’ But she was waking up now.

‘Yet the chapel was built before maize was known in Britain.’

‘“A corny beginning”,’ she recited.

‘That’s right.’

‘And the mason’s dream?’

‘Something you must have noticed in the chapel: two elaborate pillars. One is called the Mason’s Pillar, the other the Apprentice Pillar. The story goes, the Master Mason decided to go abroad to study the design for the pillar he was to construct. But while he was away, one of his apprentices had a dream about the way the finished pillar should look. He got to work and created the Apprentice Pillar. When the Master Mason returned, he was so jealous he went after the apprentice and bludgeoned him to death with a mallet.’

‘So the mason’s dream ended with the pillar?’

‘That’s right.’

Siobhan went through the story in her head. ‘It all fits,’ she said at last. ‘Thanks so much, sir.’

‘Mission accomplished?’

‘Well, not quite. I’ve got to go.’

‘Call me some other time, Siobhan. I want to hear how it ends.’

‘I will. Thanks again.’

She ran both hands through her hair. A corny beginning where the mason’s dream ended. Rosslyn Chapel. It was in the village of Roslin, about six miles south of the city. Siobhan picked up her phone again, ready to call Grant … But then she put it down. Over at the laptop, she sent an e-mail to Quizmaster:

The Apprentice Pillar, Rosslyn Chapel.

Then she waited. She drank a cup of weak coffee, using it to wash down two paracetamol. She went into the bathroom and had a shower. She was rubbing her hair dry with a towel when she walked back into the living room. There was still no message from Quizmaster. She sat down again, chewed her bottom lip. They hadn’t needed to go to Hart Fell: the name had been enough. In less than three hours, time would be up. Did Quizmaster want her to go to Roslin? She sent another e-mail: