‘Cafferty,’ he said, watching for a reaction. There was none. ‘Big Ger. Big Ger Cafferty.’

Her face remained blank. Rebus squeezed her hand again. There was another name ... one he’d been hearing recently.

‘Telford,’ he said. ‘Tommy Telford.’

Candice pulled her hand away and broke into hysterics, just as WPC Sharpe pushed open the door.

Rebus walked Dr Colquhoun out of the station, recalling that just such a walk had got him into this in the first place.

‘Thanks again, sir. If I need you, I hope you won’t mind if I call?’

‘If you must, you must,’ Colquhoun said grudgingly.

‘Not too many Slavic specialists around,’ Rebus said. He had Colquhoun’s business card in his hand, a home phone number written on its back. ‘Well,’ Rebus put out his free hand, ‘thanks again.’

As they shook, Rebus thought of something.

‘Were you at the university when Joseph Lintz was Professor of German?’

The question surprised Colquhoun. ‘Yes,’ he said at last.

‘Did you know him?’

‘Our departments weren’t that close. I met him at a few social functions, the occasional lecture.’

‘What did you think of him?’

Colquhoun blinked. He still wasn’t looking at Rebus. ‘They’re saying he was a Nazi.’

‘Yes, but back then . . . ?’

‘As I say, we weren’t close. Are you investigating him?’

‘Just curious, sir. Thanks for your time.’

Back in the station, Rebus found Ellen Sharpe outside the Interview Room door.

‘So what do we do with her?’ she asked.

‘Keep her here.’

‘You mean charge her?’

Rebus shook his head. ‘Let’s call it protective custody.’

‘Does she know that?’

‘Who’s she going to complain to? There’s only one bugger in the whole city can make out what she’s saying, and I’ve just packed him off home.’

‘What if her man comes to get her?’

‘Think he will?’

She thought about it. ‘Probably not.’

‘No, because as far as he’s concerned, all he, has to do is wait, and we’ll release her eventually. Meantime, she doesn’t speak English, so what can she give us? And she’s here illegally no doubt, so if she talks, all we’d probably do is kick her out of the country. Telford’s clever ... I hadn’t realised it, but he is. Using illegal aliens as prossies. It’s sweet.’

‘How long do we keep her?’

Rebus shrugged.

‘And what do I tell my boss?’

‘Direct all enquiries to DI Rebus,’ he said, going to open the door.

‘I thought it was exemplary, sir.’

He stopped. ‘What?’

‘Your knowledge of the charge-scale for prostitutes.’

‘Just doing my job,’ he said, smiling.

‘One last question, sir ... ?’

‘Yes, Sharpe?’

‘Why? What’s the big deal?’

Rebus considered this, twitched his nose. ‘Good question,’ he said finally, opening the door and going in.

And he knew. He knew straight away. She looked like Sammy. Wipe away the make-up and the tears, get some sensible clothes on her, and she was the spitting image.

And she was scared.

And maybe he could help her.