‘Aw, Christ,’ he exploded. There were no signs of glass by the roadside, which meant they hadn’t taken a brick to one of his windows. Oh, there’d be jokes in the office about this though, whether he got the car back or not. A taxi came along and he flagged it down, then remembered he’d no cash, so waved it off again.

His flat in Arden Street wasn’t that far off, but had he been a camel, he’d have been keeping well clear of any straw.

20

He was asleep in his chair by the living-room window, duvet pulled up to his neck, when the buzzer sounded. He couldn’t remember setting the alarm. Consciousness brought the dawning realisation that it was his door. He staggered to his feet, found his trousers and put them on.

‘All right, all right,’ he called, heading for the hall. ‘Keep your hair on.’

He opened the door and saw Bill Pryde.

‘Jesus, Bill, is this some sort of twisted revenge?’

Rebus looked at his watch: two-fifteen.

‘Afraid not, John,’ Pryde said. His face and voice told Rebus something bad had happened.

Something very bad indeed.

‘I’ve been off the booze for weeks.’

‘Sure about that?’

‘Definite.’

Rebus’s eyes burned into those of DO Gill Templer. They were in her office at St Leonard’s. Pryde was there, too. His jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up. Gill Templer looked bleary from interrupted sleep. Rebus was pacing what floor there was, unable to stay seated.

‘I’ve had nothing to drink all day but coffee and Coke.’

‘Really?’

Rebus ran his hands through his hair. He felt groggy, and his head was throbbing. But he couldn’t ask for Paracetamol and water: they’d assume hangover. ‘Come on, Gill,’ he said, ‘I’m being shafted here.’

‘Who authorised your surveillance?’

‘Nobody. I did it in my own time.’

‘How do you work that out?’

‘The Chief Super said I could take a bit of time off.’

‘He meant so you could visit your daughter.’

She paused. ‘Is that what this was all about?’

‘Maybe.’

‘This Mr ...’ she checked her notes ’... Matsumoto, he was connected to Thomas Telford. And your theory is that Telford was behind the attack on your daughter?’

Rebus thumped the wall with his fists. ‘It’s a set-up, oldest trick in the book. I’ve yet to see one perfected. There’s got to be something at the scene ... something out of kilter.’

He turned to his colleagues. ‘You’ve got to let me go there, take a look around.’

Templer looked to Bill Pryde. Pryde folded his arms, shrugged assent. But it was Templer’s play, she was the senior officer here. She tapped her pen against her teeth, then dropped it on to the desk.

‘Will you submit to a blood test?’

Rebus swallowed. ‘Why not?’ he said at last.

‘Come on then,’ she said, getting to her feet.

The story was: Matsumoto had been on his way back to his hotel. Crossing the road, he’d been hit by a car travelling at speed. The driver hadn’t stopped, not right away. But the car had travelled only another couple of hundred yards before mounting the pavement with its front wheels. It had been abandoned there, driver’s door open.