‘We’ve got ourselves a mole,’ he bawled, loud enough to be heard down the corridor. He nodded slowly, eyes trying to take in every face in front of him. When he saw that there were people at the back, out of staring range, he walked up the aisle between the desks. Officers had to shift so he could get through, but left enough room so that there was no possibility he might brush against them.

‘A mole’s always an ugly little thing. It lacks vision. Sometimes it has big greedy paws. It doesn’t like to be exposed.’ There were flecks of saliva either side of his mouth. ‘I find a mole in my garden, I put down poison. Now, some of you will say that moles can’t help it. They don’t know they’re in someone’s garden, a place of order and calm. They don’t know they’re making everything ugly. But they are, whether they know it or not. And that’s why they have to be eradicated.’ He paused, the silence lingering as he walked back down the aisle. Derek Linford had entered the room as if by stealth and was standing by the door, eyes searching out John Rebus, the two of them recent enemies …

The presence of Linford seemed only to spur Carswell on. He spun on his heels, facing his subjects again.

‘Maybe it was a mistake. We all make slip-ups, can’t be helped. But, by Christ, a lot of information seems to have been pushed to the surface!’ Another pause. ‘Maybe it was blackmail.’ And now a shrug. ‘Someone like Steven Holly, he’s lower than a mole on the evolutionary ladder. He’s pond-life. He’s the scum you sometimes see there.’ He waved a hand slowly in front of him, as if skimming water. ‘He thinks he’s made us dirty, but he hasn’t. Game’s not near over, we all know that. We’re a team. That’s how we work! Anyone who doesn’t like that can always ask to be transferred back to normal duties. It’s that simple, ladies and gentlemen. But just think of this, will you?’ He dropped his voice. ‘Think of the victim, think of her family. Think of all the upset this is going to cause them. They’re the ones we’re slogging our guts out for here, not the newspaper readers or the scribes who provide them with their daily gruel.

‘You might have some grievance against me, or someone else on the team, but why the hell would you want to put them – the family and friends, getting ready for tomorrow’s funeral – why would anyone want to do something like this to people like them?’ He let the question hang, saw faces bow in collective shame as he scanned them. Took another deep breath, his voice rising again.