“A man was murdered in Edinburgh,” Rebus explained. “Some of his clothing has turned up here.”

“Do we know why?”

“I intend keeping a lid on it, Commander,” Macrae stated. “Once the SOCOs are finished, that’s us done and dusted.” Macrae was at Steelforth’s heels, Rebus bringing up the rear.

“No plans for any premiers or presidents to come leave a wee offering?” Rebus asked.

Instead of answering, Steelforth marched into the clearing. The senior SOCO stuck a hand against his chest. “More fucking footprints,” he growled.

Steelforth glared at the hand. “Do you know who I am?”

“Don’t give a bollocks, pal. Fuck up my crime scene, you’ll answer for it.”

The Special Branch man considered for a moment, then relented, retracing his steps to the edge of the clearing, content to watch the operation. His cell sounded, and he answered it, moving farther away to prevent being overheard. Siobhan gave a questioning look. Rebus mouthed the word later and dug into his pocket, bringing out a ten-pound note.

“Here,” he said, offering it to the SOCO.

“What’s that for?”

Rebus just winked, and the man pocketed the money, adding the word “Cheers.”

“I always tip for service beyond the norm,” Rebus told Macrae. Nodding, Macrae dug into his own pocket and found a fiver for Rebus.

“Halfers,” the DCI said.

Steelforth was returning to the clearing. “I need to get back to more important matters. When will you be finished here?”

“Half an hour,” one of the other SOCOs answered.

“Longer if need be,” Steelforth’s nemesis added. “A crime scene’s a crime scene, no matter what other wee sideshows there are.” Like Rebus before him, he hadn’t been slow to work out Steelforth’s role.

The Special Branch man turned to Macrae. “I’ll inform ACC Finnigan, shall I? Let him know we have your full understanding and cooperation?”

“As you wish, sir.”

Steelforth’s face softened a little. His hand made contact with Macrae’s arm. “I’m willing to bet you didn’t see everything there is to see. When you’re finished here, come see me at Gleneagles. I’ll give you the proper tour.”

Macrae melted; a kid on Christmas morning. But he recovered well, stiffening his spine.

“Thank you, Commander.”

“Call me David.”

Crouched as if for evidence gathering some way behind Steelforth’s back, the senior SOCO made a show of sticking a finger down his throat.

Three cars would be making their way separately to Edinburgh. Rebus shuddered to think what the ecologists would say to that. Macrae peeled off first, heading for Gleneagles. Rebus had driven past the hotel earlier. When you approached Auchterarder from Kinross, you saw the hotel and its grounds a long time before you reached the town. Thousands of acres but few signs of security. He had caught just the one glimpse of fencing, alerted by a temporary structure which he took to be a watchtower. Rebus shadowed Macrae on the way back, his boss sounding the horn as he turned into the hotel’s driveway. Siobhan had guessed Perth as the quickest road, Rebus opting to retrace his cross-country route, pick up the M90 eventually. Still plenty of blue in the sky. Scottish summers were a blessing, a reward for the long winter’s twilight. Rebus turned down the music and called Siobhan’s cell.

“Hands-free, I hope…” she told him.

“Don’t be smart.”

“…otherwise you’re setting a bad example.”

“First time for everything. What did you make of our friend from London?”

“Unlike you, I don’t have those hang-ups.”

“What hang-ups?”

“With authority…with the English…with…” She paused. “Want me to go on?”

“Last time I looked, I still outrank you.”

“So?”

“So I could cite you for insubordination.”

“And give the chiefs a good laugh?”

His silence conceded the point. Either she’d gotten lippier down the years, or he was getting rusty. Both, probably. “Think we can talk the lab techs into a Saturday shift?” he asked.

“Depends.”

“What about Ray Duff? One word from you and he’d do it.”

“And all I’d have to do in return is spend a whole day with him, touring in that smelly old car.”

“It’s a design classic.”

“Something he won’t begin to tire of telling me.”

“Rebuilt it from scratch…”

Her sigh was audible. “What is it with forensics? They all have these hobbies.”

“So you’ll ask him?”

“I’ll ask him. Are you carousing this evening?”

“Night shift.”

“Same day as a funeral?”

“Someone’s got to do it.”

“I’m betting you insisted.”

He didn’t answer, instead asked what her own plans were.

“Getting my head down. Want to be up bright and early for the march.”

“What have they got you doing?”

She laughed. “I’m not working, John-I’m going because I want to.”

“Bloody hell.”

“You should come too.”

“Aye, right. That’s going to make all the difference in the world. I’d rather stay at home to make my protest.”

“What protest?”

“Against Bob bloody Geldof.” She was laughing in his ear again. “Because if as many turn up as he wants, it’ll look like it’s all because of him. Can’t have that, Siobhan. Think about it before you sign your name to the cause.”

“I’m going, John. If nothing else, I need to look out for my mum and dad.”

“Your…?”

“They’re up from London -and not because of anything Geldof said.”

“They’re going on the march?”

“Yes.”

“Do I get to meet them?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re just the sort of cop they’re afraid I’ll become.”

He was supposed to laugh at this but knew she was only half joking.

“Fair point” was all he said.

“Have you shaken off the boss?” A conscious change of subject.

“Left him at valet parking.”

“Don’t joke-they actually have that at Gleneagles. Did he toot the horn at you?”

“What do you think?”

“I knew he would. This whole trip, it’s shaken years off him.”

“Kept him out of the station, too.”

“So everybody wins.” She paused. “You think you’ve got a crack at this, don’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Cyril Colliar. The next week or so, nobody’s going to be holding your leash.”

“I didn’t realize I was up there in your estimation.”

“John, you’re a couple of years away from retirement. I know you want one last go at Cafferty.”

“And it seems I’m transparent, too.”

“Look, I’m just trying to-”

“I know, and I’m touched.”

“You really think Cafferty could be responsible?”

“If he’s not, he’ll want whoever was. Look, if it all gets a bit fraught with your parents…” Now who was changing the subject? “Send me a text and we’ll meet for a drink.”

“All right, I will. You can turn the Elbow CD up now.”

“Well spotted. Talk to you later.”

Rebus cut the connection and did as he was told.

The barriers were going up. Down George IV Bridge and all along Princes Street, workmen were busy putting them in place. Road repairs and building projects had been put on hold, scaffolding removed so it couldn’t be taken apart and used as missiles. Mailboxes had been sealed shut and some shops boarded up. Financial institutions had been warned, staff advised not to wear formal clothing-it would make them easy targets. For a Friday evening, the town was quiet. Police vans cruised the central streets, metal grilles fixed to their windshields. More vans were parked out of sight in unlit side roads. The cops on board wore riot gear and laughed among themselves, swapping stories from previous engagements. A few veterans had seen action during the last wave of miners’ strikes. Others tried to match these memories with stories of soccer battles, poll-tax demonstrations, the Newbury Bypass. They exchanged rumors about the expected size of the Italian anarchist contingent.

“ Genoa toughened them up.”