He paused. ‘How much is anal, Candice?’

Colour flooded her cheeks. Rebus smiled.

‘Maybe not university tuition, Dr Colquhoun, but someone’s taught her a few words of English. Just enough to get her working. Ask her again how she got here.’

Colquhoun mopped his face first. Candice spoke with her head lowered.

‘She says she left Sarajevo as a refugee. Went to Amsterdam, then came to Britain. The first thing she remembers is a place with lots of bridges.’

‘Bridges?’

‘She stayed there for some time.’

Colquhoun seemed shaken by the story. He handed her a handkerchief so she could wipe her eyes. She rewarded him with a smile. Then she looked at Rebus.

‘Burger chips, yes?’

‘Are you hungry?’ Rebus rubbed his stomach. She nodded and smiled. He turned to Sharpe. ‘See what the canteen can come up with, will you?’

The WPC gave him a hard stare, not wanting to leave. ‘Would you like anything, Dr Colquhoun?’

He shook his head. Rebus asked for another coffee. As Sharpe left, Rebus crouched down by the table and looked at Candice. ‘Ask her how she got to Edinburgh.’

Colquhoun asked, then listened to what sounded like a long tale. He scratched some notes on a folded sheet of paper.

‘The city with the bridges, she says she didn’t see much of it. She was kept inside. Sometimes she was driven to some rendezvous ... You’ll have to forgive me, Inspector. I may be a linguist, but I’m no expert on colloquialisms.’

‘You’re doing fine, sir.’

‘Well, she was used as a prostitute, that much I can infer. And one day they put her in the back of a car, and she thought she was going to another hotel or office.’

‘Office?’

‘From her descriptions, I’d say some of her ... work ... was done in offices. Also private apartments and houses. But mostly hotel rooms.’

‘Where was she kept?’

‘In a house. She had a bedroom, they kept it locked.’

Colquhoun pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘They put her in the car one day, and next thing she knew she was in Edinburgh.’

‘How long was the trip?’

‘She’s not sure. She slept part of the way.’

‘Tell her everything’s going to be all right.’

Rebus paused. ‘And ask her who she works for now.’

The fear returned to Candice’s face. She stammered, shaking her head. Her voice sounded more guttural than ever. Colquhoun looked like he was having trouble with the translation.

‘She can’t tell you,’ he said.

‘Tell her she’s safe.’

Colquhoun did so. ‘Tell her again,’ Rebus said. He made sure she was looking at him while Colquhoun spoke. His face was set, a face she could trust. She reached a hand out to him. He took it, squeezed.

‘Ask her again who she works for.’

‘She can’t tell you, Inspector. They’d kill her. She’s heard stories.’

Rebus decided to try the name he’d been thinking of, the man who ran half the city’s working girls.