‘All my questions?’

The lawyer nodded. ‘But I must insist on hearing more of the “deal” you’re proposing.’

Rebus looked at Hogan. ‘Go get the Chief Super.’

Rebus left the room, stood in the hallway while Hogan was away. Cadged a cigarette off a passing uniform. He’d just got it lit when Farmer Watson came barrelling towards him, Hogan behind as though attached to Watson by an invisible leash.

‘No smoking, John, you know that.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Rebus said, crimping the tip. ‘I was just holding it for Inspector Hogan.’

Watson nodded towards the door. ‘What do they want?’

‘We’ve been talking possible immunity from prosecution. At the very least, he’ll want a soft sentence, and a safe one, plus new ID afterwards.’

Watson was thoughtful. ‘We haven’t had a cheep out of any of them. Not that it matters greatly. There’s the gang we caught redhanded, plus Telford on the audio tape ...’

‘Summers is a real insider, knows Telford’s organisation.’

‘So how come he’s willing to spill?’

‘Because he’s scared, and his fear is overwhelming his loyalty. I’m not saying we’ll get every last detail out of him, but we’ll probably get enough to start pressing the other members. Once they know someone’s yapping, they’ll all want a trade.’

‘What’s his lawyer like?’

‘Expensive.’

‘No point shilly-shallying then.’

‘I couldn’t have put it better myself, sir.’

The Chief Super pinned back his shoulders. ‘All right, let’s do a deal.’

‘When did you first meet Joseph Lintz?’

Pretty-Boy’s arms were no longer folded. He was resting them on the desk, head in his hands. His hair flopped forward, making him look younger than ever.

‘About six months ago. We’d spoken on the phone before that.’

‘He was a punter?’

‘Yes.’

‘Meaning what exactly?’

Pretty-Boy looked at the turning spools. ‘You want me to explain for all our listeners?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Joseph Lintz was a client of the escort service for which I worked.’

‘Come on, Brian, you were a bit more than a flunkey. You ran it, didn’t you?’

‘If you say so.’

‘Anytime you want to walk, Brian ...’

Eyes burning. ‘Okay, I ran it for my employer.’

‘And Mr Lintz phoned wanting an escort?’

‘He wanted one of our girls to go to his home.’

‘And?’

‘And that was it. He’d sit there opposite her and just stare for half an hour.’

‘Both of them fully clothed?’

‘Yes.’

‘Nothing else?’

‘Not at first.’

‘Ah.’

Rebus paused. ‘You must have been curious.’

Pretty-Boy shrugged. ‘Takes all sorts, doesn’t it?’

‘I suppose it does. So how did your business relationship progress?’

‘Well, on a gig like that, there’s always a chaperone.’

‘Yourself?’

‘Yes.’

‘You didn’t have better things to do?’

Another shrug. ‘I was curious.’

‘About what?’

‘The address: Heriot Row.’

‘Mr Lintz had ... class?’

‘Coming out his ears. I mean, I’ve met plenty fat cats, corporate types looking for a shag in their hotel, but Lintz was a long way from that.’

‘He just wanted to look at the girls.’