Tou always did like framing people.' Cafferty turned his gaze on Clarke. So far all she'd added to the top sheet of paper was a sequence of doodles. 'Three, four times a week, he's in that old banger of his, parked on the street outside my house. Some people would cry “harassment” – what do you think, DS Clarke? Should I apply for one of those restraining orders?'

'What did the two of you talk about?'

'Back to the Russian guy again?' Cafferty sounded disappointed.

'Far as I can recollect, he said something about Edinburgh being a cold city. I probably said he was dead right.'

'Maybe he meant the people rather than the climate.'

'And he'd still have been right. I don't mean you, of course, DS Clarke – you're a little ray of sunshine. But those of us who've lived here all our lives, well, we can be on the morose side, wouldn't you agree, DI Rebus? A pal of mine told me once it's because we've

never stopped being invaded – a silent invasion, to be sure, quite a pleasant invasion, and sometimes more a trickle than an onslaught, but it's made us… prickly – some more than most.' Giving a sly glance towards Rebus.

'You've still not explained why you were paying for a room at the hotel,' Rebus stated.

'I thought I had,' Cafferty countered.

'Only if you mistake us for half-wits.'

'I agree, “halfwits” would be stretching it.' Cafferty gave another chuckle. Rebus had slipped his hands into his trouser pockets, the better to curl them into unseen fists. 'Look,' Cafferty went on, seeming suddenly to tire of the game, 'I bought a drink for a stranger, somebody mugged him, end of story.'

'Not until we know the who and the why,' Rebus corrected him.

'What else did you talk about?' Clarke added.

Cafferty rolled his eyes. 'He said Edinburgh was cold, I said yes.

He said Glasgow was warmer, I said maybe. His drink arrived and we both said “cheers”… Come to think of it, he had something with him. What was it? A compact disc, I think.'

Yes, the one Charles Riordan had given him. Two dead men sharing a curry. Rebus clenching and unclenching his hands.

Clenching and unclenching. Cafferty, he realised, stood for everything that had ever gone sour – every bungled chance and botched case, suspects missed and crimes unsolved. The man wasn't just the grit in the oyster, he was the pollutant poisoning everything within reach.

And there's no way I can take him down, is there?

Unless God really was up there, handing Rebus this last slim chance.

'The disc wasn't on the body,' Clarke was saying.

'He took it with him,' Cafferty stated. 'Slipped it into one of his pockets.' He patted his right-hand side.

'Meet any other Russians in the bar that night?' Rebus asked.

'Now you mention it, there were some rum accents – I thought they must be Gaels or something. Soon as they started with the ceilidh songs, I swore I'd be heading for bed.'

'Did Todorov speak to any of them?'

'How should I know?'

'Because you were with him.'

Cafferty slapped both hands against the greasy tabletop. 'One drink I had with him!'

'So you say.' Got you rattled again, you bastard!

'Meaning you were the last person he spoke with before he died,'

Clarke reinforced.

You're saying I followed him? Put the boot in him? Fine, let's take a look at this CCTV of yours… let's get the barman in here to say how late I stayed at the bar. You've obviously seen my tab – what time was it signed for? I didn't move from that place until gone midnight. Room full of witnesses… signed bar tab… CCTV.'

He held up three fingers triumphantly. There was silence in IR3.

Rebus eased himself from the wall and took the couple of steps which left him standing beside Cafferty's chair.

'Something happened in that bar, didn't it?' he said, his voice not much above a whisper.

'Sometimes I wish I had your fantasy life, Rebus, I really do.'

There was a sudden knock at the door. Clarke released the breath she'd been holding and called out for whoever it was to come in.

Todd Goodyear edged nervously around the door.

'What do you want?' Rebus snapped. Goodyear's eyes were on the gangster, but the message was for Clarke.

'Fire investigator's got some news.'

'Is she here?' Clarke asked.

'In the suite,' he confirmed.

'Fresh blood,' Cafferty drawled, measuring Goodyear from head to toe. 'What's your name, son?'

'PC Goodyear.'

'A police constable out of uniform?' Cafferty smiled. 'CID must be desperate. Is he your replacement, Rebus?'

“Thanks, Goodyear,' was all Rebus said, nodding to let the young man know he was dismissed. Cafferty, however, had other ideas.

'Used to know a heid-the-ba' called Goodyear…'

'Which one?' Todd Goodyear decided to ask. Cafferty's smile turned into a laugh.

'You're right – there was old Harry, used to run a pub on Rose Street. But I was thinking of more recent times.'

'Solomon Goodyear,' Todd stated.

'That's the one.' Cafferty's eyes gleamed. 'Sol, everyone calls him.'

'My brother.'

Cafferty nodded slowly. Rebus was gesturing for Goodyear to hoof it, but Cafferty's stare held the young man captive. 'Now I think of it, Sol did have a brother… never seemed to want to talk about him, though. Does that make you the black sheep, PC Goodyear?' He was laughing again.

'Tell the FI we'll be there in a minute,' Clarke interrupted, but still Goodyear didn't move.

Todd?' Rebus's use of his first name seemed to break the spell.

Goodyear nodded and disappeared around the door again.

'Nice kid,' Cafferty mused. 'He'll be your pet project then, DS Clarke, for when Rebus slopes off into the sunset, just like you used to be Rebus's.' When neither detective spoke, Cafferty decided to quit while he was ahead. He stretched his spine, arms extended to either side, and started getting to his feet. 'We done here?'

'For the moment,' Clarke conceded.

Tou don't want me to make a statement or anything?'

'Wouldn't be worth the paper it was written on,' Rebus growled.

'Get all the digs in while you can,' Cafferty advised. He was at eye level with his old adversary. 'See you tonight maybe – same time, same place. I'll be thinking of you, freezing in your car. Speaking of which, it was a nice touch turning off the heating in here – it'll make my room at the hotel feel all the cosier.'

'Speaking of the Caledonian,' Clarke decided to add, 'you bought a lot of drinks that night – eleven, according to your tab.'

'Maybe I was thirsty – or just generous.' His gaze settled on her.

'I can be the generous sort, Siobhan, when the circumstances are right. But then you know that already, don't you?'

'I know a lot of things, Cafferty.'

'Oh, I'm sure of that. Maybe we can talk about them while you give me a lift back into town.'

'Bus stop's across the road,' Rebus said.