‘All right, John?’

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

‘Fine.’

‘My office is empty if you want to get your head down.’

‘No, I’ll be fine. Just ...’

He looked around. ‘Is this place needed?’

She nodded.

‘Right. Okay.’

He picked up the chair. ‘Who is it?’

‘Brian Summers,’ she said.

Pretty-Boy. Rebus straightened his back.

‘I can make him talk.’

Templer looked sceptical.

‘Honest, Gill.’

Hands trembling. ‘He doesn’t know what I’ve got on him.’

She folded her arms. ‘And what’s that?’

‘I just need ...’

He checked his watch. ‘An hour or so; two hours tops. Bobby Hogan needs to be here. And I want Colquhoun brought in pronto.’

‘Who’s he?’

Rebus found the business card and handed it over. ‘Pronto,’ he repeated. He worked at his tie, making himself presentable. Smoothed back his hair. Said nothing.

‘John, I’m not sure you’re in any state to ...’

He pointed at her, turned it into a wagging finger. ‘Don’t presume, Gill. If I say I can break him, I mean it.’

‘No one else has said a single word.’

‘Summers will be different.’

He stared at her. ‘Believe me.’

Looking back at him, she believed. ‘I’ll hold him back till Hogan gets here.’

‘Thanks, Gill.’

‘And, John?’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m really sorry about Jack Morton. I didn’t know him, but I’ve heard what everyone’s saying.’

Rebus nodded.

‘They’re saying he’d be the last one to blame you.’

Rebus smiled. ‘Right at the back of the queue.’

‘There’s only one person in the queue, John,’ she, said quietly. ‘And you’re it.’

Rebus phoned the night-desk at the Caledonian Hotel, learned that Sakiji Shoda had checked out unexpectedly, less than two hours after Rebus had dropped off the green folder which had cost him fifty-five pence at a stationer’s on Raeburn Place. Actually, the folders had come in three-packs at one sixty-five. He had the other two in his car, only one of them empty.

Bobby Hogan was on his way. He lived in Portobello. He said to give him half an hour. Bill Pryde came over to Rebus’s desk and said how sorry he was about Jack Morton, how he knew the two of them had been old friends.

‘Just don’t get too close to me, Bill,’ Rebus told him. ‘The people closest to me tend to lose their health.’

He got a message from reception: someone there to see him. He headed downstairs, found Patience Aitken.

‘Patience?’

She had all her clothes on, but not necessarily in the right order, like she’d dressed in a power-cut.

‘I heard on the radio,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t sleep, so I had the radio on, and they said about this police raid and how people were dead ... And you weren’t in your flat, so I ...’

He hugged her. ‘I’m okay,’ he whispered. ‘I should have called you.’

‘It’s my fault, I ...’

She looked at him. ‘You were there, I can see it on your face.’

He nodded. ‘What happened?’