'Then I'll see what we can do.' Forster rose to his feet. 'Ready when you are, Inspector.'

'I'm ready,' said Rebus, not at all sure that he was.

There was much passing through corridors, and the nurse who was to show Rebus to Kinnoul Ward had to unlock and relock countless doors. A heavy chain of keys swung from his waistband. Rebus attempted conversation, but the nurse replied with short measures. There was just the one incident. They were passing along a corridor when from an open doorway a hand appeared, grabbing at Rebus. A small, elderly man was trying to say something, eyes shining, mouth making tiny movements.

'Back into your room, Homer,' said the nurse, prising the fingers from Rebus's jacket. The man scuttled back inside. Rebus waited a moment for his heart rate to ease, then asked: 'Why do you call him Homer?'

The nurse looked at him. 'Because that's his name.' They walked on in silence.

Forster had been right. There were few moans or groans or sudden curdling shrieks, and few enough signs of movement, never mind violent movement. They passed through a large room where people were watching TV. Forster had explained that actual television wasn't allowed, since it couldn't be pre-determined. Instead, there was a daily diet of specially chosen video titles. The Sound of Music seemed to be a particular favourite. The patients watched in mute fascination.

'Are they on drugs?' Rebus hazarded.

The nurse suddenly became talkative. 'As many as we can stick down their throats. Keeps them out of mischief.'

So much for the caring face…

'Nothing wrong with it,' the nurse was saying, 'giving them drugs. It's all in the MHA.'

'MHA?'

'Mental Health Act. Allows for sedation as part of the treatment process.'

Rebus got the feeling the nurse was reciting a little defence he'd prepared to deal with visitors who asked. He was a big bugger: not tall, but broad, with bulging arms.

'Do any weight training?' Rebus asked.

'Who? That lot?'

Rebus smiled. 'I meant you.'

'Oh.' A grin. 'Yeah, I push some weights. Most of these places, the patients get all the facilities and there's nothing for the staff. But we've got a pretty good gym. Yeah, pretty good. In here…'

Another door was unlocked, another corridor beckoned, but off this corridor a sign pointed through yet another door – unlocked – to the Kinnoul Ward. In there,' the guard commanded, pushing open the door. His voice became firm. 'Okay, walk to the wall.'

Rebus thought for a moment the nurse was talking to him, but he saw that the object of the command was a tall, thin man, who now rose from his bed and walked to the far wall, where he turned to face them.

'Hands against the wall,' the nurse commanded. Andrew Macmillan placed the palms of his hands against the wall behind him.

'Look,' began Rebus, 'is this really -?'

Macmillan smiled wryly. 'Don't worry,' the nurse told Rebus. 'He won't bite. Not after what we've pumped into him. You can sit there.' He was pointing to a table on which a board had been set for chess. There were two chairs. Rebus sat on the one which faced Andrew Macmillan. There were four beds, but they were all empty. The room was light, its walls painted lemon. There were three narrow barred windows, through which some rare sunshine poured. The nurse looked to be staying, and took up position behind Rebus, so that he was reminded of the scene in Dufftown interview room, with himself and Corbie and Knox.

'Good morning,' Macmillan said quietly. He was balding, and looked to have been doing so for some years. He had a long face, but it was not gaunt. Rebus would have called the face 'kindly'.

'Good morning, Mr Macmillan. My name's Inspector Rebus.'

This news seemed to excite Macmillan. He took half a step forward.

'Against the wall,' said the nurse. Macmillan paused, then retreated.

'Are you an Inspector of Hospitals?' he asked.

'No, sir, I'm a police inspector.'

'Oh.' His face dulled a little. 'I thought maybe you'd come to… they don't treat us well here, you know.' He paused. 'There, because I've told you that I'll probably be disciplined, maybe even put into solitary. Everything, any dissension, gets reported back. But I've got to keep telling people, or nothing will be done. I have some influential friends, Inspector.' Rebus thought this was for the nurse's ears more than his own. 'Friends in high places…"

Well, Dr Forster knew that now, thanks to Rebus.

'… friends I can trust. People need to be told, you see. They censor our mail. They decide what we can read. They won't even let me read Das Kapital. And they give us drugs. The mentally ill, you know, by whom I mean those who have been judged to be mentally ill, we have less rights than the most hardened mass murderer… hardened but sane mass murderer. Is that fair? Is that… humane?'

Rebus had no ready answer. Besides, he didn't want to be sidetracked.

'You had a visit from Elizabeth Jack.'

Macmillan seemed to think back, then nodded. 'So I did. But when she visits me she's Ferrie, not Jack. It's our secret.'

'What did you talk about?'

'Why are you interested?'

Rebus decided that Macmillan did not know of Liz Jack's murder. How could he know? There was no access to news in this place. Rebus's fingers toyed with the chessmen.

'It's to do with an investigation… to do with Mr Jack.'

'What has he done?'

Rebus shrugged. 'That's what I'm trying to find out, Mr Macmillan.'

Macmillan had turned his face towards the ray of sunshine. 'I miss the world,' he said, his voice dropping to a murmur. 'I had so many – friends.'

'Do you keep in touch with them?'

'Oh yes,' Macmillan said. 'They come and take me home with them for the weekend. We enjoy evenings out at the cinema, the theatre, drinking in bars. Oh, we have some wonderful times together.' He smiled ruefully, and tapped his head. 'But only in here.'

'Hands against the wall.'

'Why?' he spat. 'Why do I have to keep my hands against the wall? Why can't I just sit down and have a normal conversation like… a… normal… person.' The angrier he got, the lower his voice dropped. There were flecks of saliva either side of his mouth, and a vein bulged above his right eye. He took a deep breath, then another, then bowed his head slightly. 'I'm sorry, Inspector. They give me drugs, you know. God knows what they are. They have this… effect on me.'

'That's all right, Mr Macmillan,' Rebus said, but inside he was quivering. Was this madness or sanity? What happened to sanity when you chained it to a wall? Chained it, moreover, with chains that weren't real.

'You were asking,' Macmillan went on, breathless now, 'you were asking about… Eliza… Ferrie. You're right, she did come and visit. Quite a surprise. I know they have a home near here, yet they've never visited before. Lizzie… Eliza… did visit once, a long time ago. But Gregor… Well, he's a busy man, isn't he? And she's a busy woman. I hear about these things…"

From Cath Kinnoul, Rebus didn't doubt.

'Yes, she visited. A very pleasant hour we spent. We talked about the past, about… friends. Friendship. Is their marriage in trouble?'

'Why do you say that?'

Another creased smile. 'She came alone, Inspector. She told me she was on holiday alone. Yet a man was waiting for her outside. Either it was Gregor, and he didn't want to see me, or else it was one of her… friends.'

'How do you know?'

'Nursie here told me. If you don't want to sleep tonight, Inspector, get him to show you the punishment block. I bet Doc Forster didn't mention the punishment block. Maybe that's where they'll throw me for talking like this.'

'Shut it, Macmillan.'

Rebus turned to the nurse. 'Is it true?' he asked. 'Was someone waiting outside for Mrs Jack?'

'Yeah, there was somebody in the car. Some guy. I only saw him from one of the windows. He'd got out of the car to stretch his legs.'