‘On its way elsewhere. Companies in London, private banks in Guernsey ... the money gets filtered down, getting cleaner all the time. Everyone wants to do business with the Russians.’

‘Why?’

‘Because they make everyone money. Russia’s one giant bazaar. You want weapons, counterfeit goods, money, fake passports, even plastic surgery? You want any of that, it’s in Russia. The place has open borders, airports nobody knows exist ... it’s ideal.’

‘If you happen to be an international mobster.’

‘Exactly. And the mafiya have made links with their Sicilian cousins, with the Camorra, the Calabrians ... I could go on forever. British villains go shopping there. They all love the Russians.’

‘And now they’re here?’

‘Oh, they’re here all right. Running protection and prossies, dealing drugs ...’

Prostitutes, drugs: Mr Pink Eyes’s territory; Telford’s territory.

‘Any evidence of a hook-up with the Yakuza?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘But if they moved into Britain ...?’

‘They’d be trying to control drugs and prostitution. They’d be laundering money.’

Ways to launder money: through legitimate businesses such as-country clubs and the like; by swopping dirty money for casino chips at an establishment like the Morvena.

Rebus already knew that the Yakuza liked to smuggle artworks back into Japan. Rebus already knew Mr Pink had made his early money smuggling icons out of Russia. Put the two together.

Then add Tommy Telford to the equation.

Did they need the haul from Maclean’s? It didn’t sound to Rebus like they did. So why was Tommy Telford doing it? Two possible reasons: one, to show off; two, because they’d told him to. Some rite of passage ... If he wanted to play with the big boys, he had to prove himself. He had to wipe out Cafferty, and pull off what would be the biggest heist in Scottish history.

Something hit Rebus between the eyes.

Telford wasn’t meant to succeed. Telford was meant to fail.

Telford was being set up by Tarawicz and the Yakuza.

Because he had something they wanted: a steady supply of drugs; a kingdom waiting to be plucked from his grasp. Miriam Kenworthy had said as much: rumour was, the drugs were going south frorn Scotland. Which meant Telford had a supply ... something nobody knew about.

With Cafferty out of the way, there’d be no competition. The Yakuza would have their British base - solid, respectable, reliable. The electronics factory would act as perfect cover, maybe even as a laundering operation itself. Every way Rebus looked at it, Telford was unnecessary to the equation, like a zero that could be safely cancelled out.

Which was where Rebus wanted Telford ... only not at the price being asked.

‘Thanks for your help,’ he said. He noticed that Hogan had stopped listening and was staring into space. Rebus put the phone down.

‘Sorry to have bored you.’ Hogan blinked. ‘No, nothing like that. It’s just that I thought of something.’

‘What?’

‘Pretty-Boy. I mistook him for a woman.’

‘You’re probably not the first.’