“We can take them on a scenic tour.”

“Or shopping.”

“Or museums and galleries.”

“Whatever they want, that’s what they get. Even if it means shutting roads or clearing the public out of a shop. But they’re also ferrying in some arty types from Edinburgh -writers and painters-to pass the time.”

“And Bono, of course,” another driver added. “Him and Geldof are doing their glad-handing bit later today.”

“Speaking of which…” Siobhan glanced at the time on her cell. “I’ve got the offer of a Final Push ticket.”

“Who from?” Rebus asked, knowing she’d had no luck in the public draw.

“One of the guards in Niddrie. Think we’ll be home in time?”

He just shrugged. “Oh,” he said, “something I meant to tell you.”

“What?”

“I’ve co-opted Ellen Wylie onto the team.”

Siobhan’s look became a glare.

“She knows more about BeastWatch than we do,” Rebus plowed on, failing to make eye contact.

“Yes,” Siobhan said, “a damned sight too much.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning she’s too close to it, John. Think what a defense lawyer would do to her in court!” Siobhan was failing to keep her voice down. “You didn’t think to ask me? I’m the one whose head’s on the block if this all falls apart!”

“She’s just doing admin,” Rebus said, knowing himself how pathetic this sounded. He was saved by the soldier, striding back toward them.

“I need you to state your business,” the man announced crisply.

“Well, I’m in the CID business,” Rebus replied, “as is my colleague here. We’ve been told to meet someone, and this is where it’s hap pening.”

“Which person? Whose orders?”

Rebus tapped the side of his nose. “Hush-hush,” he said in an under tone. The drivers had returned to their own conversation, debating which stars they might be chauffeuring to the Scottish Open on Saturday.

“Not me,” one of them boasted. “I’m doing the run between Glasgow and T in the Park.”

“You’re based in Edinburgh, Inspector,” the soldier was saying. “This is way out of your jurisdiction.”

“We’re investigating a murder,” Rebus hit back.

“Three murders, actually,” Siobhan corrected him.

“And that means no boundaries,” Rebus concluded.

“Except,” the soldier countered, rising onto his toes, “you’ve been ordered to put your inquiry on ice.” He seemed to like the effect his words had on Siobhan in particular.

“Okay, so you made a phone call,” Rebus told him, not about to be impressed.

“Your chief constable wasn’t very happy.” The soldier was smiling with his eyes. “And neither was he…” Rebus followed the line of his eyes. A Land Rover was bumping its way toward them. The passenger-side window was wide open, Steelforth’s head leaning out from it as though he was straining at some leash.

“Oh, crap,” Siobhan muttered.

“Chin up,” Rebus advised her, “shoulders back.” He was rewarded with another withering look.

The car had screeched to a halt, Steelforth spilling out. “Do you know,” he was yelling, “how many months of training and preparation, weeks of deep cover surveillance…do you know how much of that you’ve just blown to smithereens?”

“Not sure I follow you,” Rebus answered blithely, handing his empty plate back to the chef.

“I think he means Santal,” Siobhan said.

Steelforth glared at her. “Of course I do!”

“She’s one of yours?” Rebus asked, then he nodded to himself. “Stands to reason. Send her to the campsite at Niddrie, get her taking photos of all those protesters. Compiling a nice little portfolio for future use…So valuable to you, in fact, that you couldn’t even spare her for her own brother’s funeral.”

“Her decision, Rebus,” Steelforth snapped.

“Two o’clock, Columbo started,” one of the drivers said.

Steelforth was not to be deflected. “A surveillance operation like that, oftentimes they hardly get off the ground before the cover’s blown. Months she’d been in place.”

Rebus picked up on that use of the past tense, and Steelforth confirmed it with a nod.

“How many people,” he asked, “do you think saw you with her today? How many clocked you as CID? Either they’ll start to mistrust her, or they’ll feed her garbage in the hope that we’ll bite.”

“If she’d trusted us in the first place-” Siobhan was cut off by a harsh burst of laughter from Steelforth.

“Trusted you?” He laughed again, leaning forward with the effort. “My God, that’s a good one.”

“Should have been here earlier,” Siobhan told him. “Our soldier friend’s comeback was better.”

“And by the way,” Rebus said, “I wanted to thank you for putting me in a cell overnight.”

“I can’t help it if officers decide to use their own initiative, or if your own boss won’t answer a phone call.”

“They were real cops then?” Rebus asked. Steelforth rested his hands on his waist, elbows jutting. He stared at the ground, then back up at Rebus and Siobhan.

“You’ll be put on suspension, of course.”

“We don’t work for you.”

“This week, everyone works for me.” He turned his attention to Siobhan. “And you won’t be seeing DS Webster again.”

“She has evidence-”

“Evidence of what? That your mother got hit by a baton during a riot? It’s up to her if she wants to make a complaint-have you even asked her?”

“I…” Siobhan hesitated.

“No, you just tore off on this little crusade. DS Webster’s being sent back home-your fault, not mine.”

“Speaking of evidence,” Rebus said, “whatever happened to those security-camera tapes?”

Steelforth frowned. “Tapes?” he echoed.

“The operations room at Edinburgh Castle…cameras trained on the ramparts…”

“We’ve been through this a dozen times,” Steelforth growled. “Nobody saw anything.”

“So it’s okay for me to watch the tapes?”

“If you can find any, be my guest.”

“They’ve been wiped?” Rebus guessed. Steelforth didn’t bother replying. “This suspension of ours,” Rebus went on, “you forgot to add ‘pending an inquiry.’ I’m guessing that’s because there won’t be one.”

Steelforth shrugged. “Up to the pair of you.”

“Dependent on our conduct? Like not pushing for the tapes to be made available?”

Steelforth shrugged again. “You can survive this-but just barely. I can make you look like heroes or villains-” The radio clipped to Steelforth’s belt crackled to life. Report from one of the watchtowers: security fence breached. Steelforth held the radio to his mouth and ordered a Chinook’s worth of reinforcements, then strode back toward the Land Rover. One of the chauffeurs intercepted him.

“Wanted to introduce myself, Commander. Name’s Steve and I’ll be driving you to the Open-”

Steelforth snarled some sort of oath, stopping Steve dead. The other drivers started joking that he wouldn’t be getting much of a tip this weekend. Steelforth’s Land Rover, meantime, was already revving its engine.

“Not even a farewell kiss?” Rebus called out, offering a wave of his hand. Siobhan stared at him.

“You’ve got retirement to look forward to-some of us were hoping for a career.”

“You see what he’s like, Shiv: moment this is all over, we’ll have fallen off his radar.” Rebus kept waving as the vehicle roared away. The soldier was standing in front of them, holding out their badges.

“Off you go now,” he snapped.

“Where exactly?” Siobhan asked.

“Or, more to the point, how?” Rebus added.

One of the drivers cleared his throat and stretched out an arm, drawing attention to the array of luxury cars. “I just got a text-one of the suits has to get back to Glasgow. I could drop you off somewhere.”

Siobhan and Rebus shared a look. Siobhan then smiled at the driver and nodded toward the cars.

“Do we get to choose?” she asked.

They ended up sitting in the back of a six-liter Audi A8, four hundred miles on its clock, most of them added since first thing that morning. Pungent aroma of new leather and the bright gleam of chrome. Siobhan asked if the TV was working. Rebus gave her a look.