She took Rebus into the Customs area and found a room they could use for their conversation.

‘They’ve just started direct international flights,’ she said, in answer to his question. ‘It’s shocking really.’

‘Why?’

‘Because at the same time, they’ve cut back on manpower.’

‘You mean in Customs?’

She nodded.

‘You’re worried about drugs?’

‘Of course.’

She paused. ‘And everything else.’

‘Are there flights to Amsterdam?’

‘There will be.’

‘But as of now ... ?’

She shrugged. ‘You can fly to London, make the connection there.’

Rebus was thoughtful. ‘There was a guy a few days ago, flew from Japan to Heathrow, then got a flight to Inverness.’

‘Did he stop off in London?’

Rebus shook his head. ‘Caught the first connection.’

‘That counts as an international connection.’

‘Meaning?’

‘His luggage would be put on the plane in Japan, and he wouldn’t see it again until Inverness.’

‘So you’d be the first Customs point?’

She nodded.

‘And if his flight came in at some horrible hour ...?’

She shrugged again. ‘We do what we can, Inspector.’

Yes, Rebus could imagine: a lone, bleary-eyed Customs official, wits not at their sharpest ...

‘So the bags change planes at Heathrow, but no one checks them there?’

‘That’s about it.’

‘And if you were flying from Holland to Inverness via London?’

‘Same deal.’

Rebus knew now, knew the brilliance of Tommy Telford’s thinking. He was supplying drugs for Tarawicz, and Christ knew how many others. His little old ladies and men were bringing them in past early-morning or late-night Customs posts. How difficult would it be to slip something into a piece of luggage? Then Telford’s men would be on hand to take everyone back to Edinburgh, carry their luggage upstairs ... and surreptitiously remove each package.

Old age pensioners as unwitting drugs couriers. It was stunning.

And Shoda hadn’t flown into Inverness so he could check out the local tourist amenities. He’d flown in so he could see how easy it was, what a brilliant route Telford had found, quick and efficient with a minimum of risk. Rebus had to laugh again. The Highlands had its own drugs problem these days: bored teenagers and cash-rich oil-workers. Rebus had smashed one north-east ring back in early summer, only to have Tommy Telford come along ...

Cafferty would never have thought of it. Cafferty would never have been so daring. But Cafferty would have kept it quiet. He wouldn’t have sought to expand, wouldn’t have brought partners into the scheme.

Telford was still a kid in some respects. The passenger-seat teddy bear was proof of that.

Rebus thanked the Customs official and went in search of food. Parked in the middle of town and grabbed a burger, sat at a window table and thought it all through. There were still aspects that didn’t make sense, but he could cope with that.

He made two calls: one to the hospital; one to Bobby Hogan. Sammy hadn’t woken up again. Hogan was interviewing Pretty-Boy at seven o’clock. Rebus said he’d be there.