‘Fire Brigade’s going to be stretched. Two of Cafferty’s offices are spontaneously combusting ...’ he checked his watch ... ‘right about now, as is that beautiful house of his. Don’t worry, we waited till his wife was out shopping. Final ultimatums have been delivered to his men - they can shuffle out of town or off this mortal coil.’

He shrugged. ‘Makes no odds to me. Go tell Cafferty: he’s finished in Edinburgh.’

Rebus licked his lips. ‘You’ve just said I’m wrong about you, that you had nothing to do with my daughter. What if you’re wrong about Cafferty?’

‘Wake up, will you? The stabbing at Megan’s, then Danny Simpson ... Cafferty’s not exactly subtle.’

‘Did Danny say it was Cafferty’s men?’

‘He knows, same as I do.’

Telford tapped Pretty-Boy’s shoulder. ‘Back to base.’

To Rebus: ‘Another little message for you to take to Barlinnie. Here’s what I told Cafferty’s men - any of them left in this city after midnight are fair game ... and I don’t take prisoners.’

He sniffed, seemed pleased with himself, settled back in the seat. ‘You won’t mind if I drop you at Flint Street? Only I’ve a business meeting in fifteen minutes.’

‘With Matsumoto’s bosses?’

‘If they want Poyntinghame, they’ll keep dealing with me.’

He looked at Rebus. ‘You should deal with me, too. Think about this: who’d want you pissed off with me? It comes back to Cafferty: hitting your daughter, setting up Matsumoto ... It all comes back to Cafferty. Think it over, then maybe we should talk again.’

After a couple of minutes, Rebus broke the silence.

‘You know a man called Joseph Lintz?’

‘Bobby Hogan mentioned him.’

‘He phoned your office in Flint Street.’

Telford shrugged. ‘I’ll tell you what I told Hogan. Maybe it was a wrong number. Whatever it was, I didn’t speak to any old Nazi.’

‘You’re not the only one uses that office though.’

Rebus saw Pretty-Boy watching him in the rearview mirror. ‘What about you?’

‘Never heard of the cat.’

A car was parked in Flint Street - a huge white limousine with blackened windows. There was a TV aerial on the boot, and the hubcaps were painted pink.

‘Christ,’ Telford said in amusement, ‘look at his latest toy.’

He seemed to have forgotten all about Rebus. He was out of the car and loping towards the man who was emerging from the back of the limo. White suit, panama hat, big cigar, and a bright red paisley shirt. None of which stopped you staring at the scarred face and blue-tinted glasses. Telford was commenting on the attire, the car, the audacity, and Mr Pink Eyes was loving it. He put a hand around Telford’s shoulder, steering him towards the amusement arcade. But then he stopped, clicked his fingers, turned back to the limo and reached out a hand.

And now a woman was emerging. Short black dress and black tights, fur jacket keeping out the chills. Tarawicz rubbed a hand over her backside; Telford kissed her on the neck. She smiled, eyes slightly glazed. Then Tarawicz and Telford turned towards the Range Rover. They were both staring at Rebus.