'I don't know about that, mate. I'd say you were bloody brave.'

'What happened? After I conked out, I mean.'

'Seemed to quieten them a bitthere you were, sparked out in the road, and with traffic coming from both directions. Got to tell you, you're on free drinks for life in my place.'

'I don't drink.'

'Thank God for thatsaves me a few bob. I'm Davie Dunn, by the way. I drove you here in your car. Need to get that clutch seen to.'

'Thanks for the tip.'

'I know a guy. I'll fix you up with him.'

'So they just left, did they?'

'There'd have been a few cracked skulls in here if they hadn't.'

'I thought one of them was pulling a knife.'

Dunn nodded. 'One of those thin blades from the DIY stores. But Stark gave the word and that was that.'

'Stark?' Fox asked, fishing.

'Don't be fooled, Daviehe knows fine well who Stark is.'

The voice had come from behind Fox. He turned too quickly, almost losing his balance as the world spun. Darryl Christie had emerged from the toilet and was wiping his hands dry with a handkerchief. 'This is Detective Inspector Fox, Davie. And suddenly it all makes sense. There's a surveillance operation on the Starks, yes? After the stunt they pulled yesterday with Chick Carpenter?'

'Is there?' Fox countered, dry-mouthed.

'You know one another?' Dunn was asking.

'DI Fox came to see me a couple of days back. He's been to the Gimlet, too, back in the days when I owned it.' Christie focused his attention on Fox. 'Davie here is a good friend of mine. That's why I sold him my pride and joy. The Gimlet taught me a lot of lessonshard knocks, you might call them. So when Davie tells me the Starks have been threatening him, well... I listen. And that's what brought me running.' He had folded the handkerchief back into his pocket. 'Now, here's the message I want you to take back to Rebus or whoever else is involved in this surveillance of yoursthe Starks are going down, end of. You can save us all a lot of grief by walking away and letting me get on with it.'

'What if I'd walked away today, though?' Fox gestured towards Davie Dunn. 'What then?'

'I'm just saying, best if your lot steer clear.' Christie looked around the waiting area. 'Where are your buddies anyway? I know Police Scotland are stretched, but a one-man surveillance?' He shook his head in disbelief. 'They let you take that beating, didn't they? Is that because they didn't want the surveillance compromised? Or maybe they just liked seeing someone who used to be in Professional Standards get a doing?' Christie smiled, watching Fox try to formulate an answer. Then he patted Fox's forearm. 'Don't go straining yourself. Got all your stuff? Davie here will take you home.'

And Fox did want to go home. It didn't even bother him that both Christie and Dunn would then know where he lived. Chances were, Christie either already knew, or could find out in five minutes. So Dunn drove, while Fox sat in the passenger seat, still in pain. Christie was behind them all the way in a Range Rover Evoque.

'You've known Darryl a while, then?' Fox asked.

'Probably best we don't talk about any of thatnow I know you're police.'

'Does the drinks-for-life offer still stand?'

'Of course. Thing is, once my regulars get a whiff of you, you're not going to want to linger.'

'Which might temper the enjoyment.'

'It might.' Dunn glanced at him. 'No offence, but you don't look like the kind of cop who'd do surveillance.'

'Oh?'

'You seem more of a pen-pusher.'

'Sorry to disappoint you.' Fox paused. 'Will they come back, do you think?'

'Stark and his posse? I suppose they might.'

'You used to drive lorries, didn't you?'

'Europe, Ireland, all over.' Dunn paused. 'How do you know that?'

'Secret of a good surveillanceknow everything. You drove for Hamish Wright?'

'Haven't seen him in years.'

'I'm guessing the Starks think otherwise.'

'The Starks haven't got the brains they were born with.'

'Doesn't seem to have held them back.'

'It'll be their downfall, though. This is 2015. Stanley knives and fifty-quid drug deals? Reckon they've ever heard of Bitcoin or the darknet? They're a market stall in the age of Amazon.'

'Yet still a threat.'

'Because they're panicking.'

'Last time I saw Darryl, at his hotel, he seemed to be heading that way too.'

'Panicking, you mean? Maybe he was putting on a show for you.' Dunn glanced towards his passenger again. 'Besides, we're not talking about that, remember? Want me to drop you home and take your car to my mate's? He'd have this clutch fixed by day's end.'

Fox shook his head. As they entered Oxgangs, he had to start giving directions.

'Nice and peaceful around these parts?' Dunn enquired.

'So far,' Fox replied. 'Just here will do, thanks.'

The car drew up by the kerb, both men getting out. Fox took the keys from Dunn, who gave a wave rather than a handshake as he got into the Range Rover. Christie did a three-point turn and drove off, and Fox headed indoors. He thought about running a bath. A nice long soak. He had no messages on his phone, no missed calls. He plugged the phone in to charge and poured a big glass of tap water, gulping it down. Only then did he wander into the bathroom to check the damage in the mirror. Bruising down one side of his face. His chin hurt, and he'd obviously fallen on his arm as he hit the carriageway.

You'll live, he told himself. Not that anyone's bothered.

The doorbell went. He peered through the spyhole before opening up to Compston and Bell. Compston stormed inside without invitation, Bell fixing Fox with a look before following.

Compston stood in the centre of the living room, feet apart, arms folded. 'Nice of them to drop you home,' he growled. 'Your new friends, I mean.'

'You'd have left me lying in the road, right?' Fox retorted.

'Didn't you learn anything from yesterday?'

'I wasn't going to let them stab anyone.'

Compston turned his attention to Bell. 'Knives?'

'I didn't see any.'

'Jackie Dyson was getting ready to pull one out.' Fox studied both men's reaction, but they were giving nothing away.

'Nevertheless,' Compston eventually said. Then: 'Did you identify yourself as the law?'

'I didn't need toDarryl Christie knows me, remember.'

'I meant Stark and his boys.'

Fox shook his head.

'You sure?'

'I'm sure. But meantime, Christie has put two and two togetherhe knows there's surveillance on the Starks.' Fox raised a hand as Compston bared his teeth. 'Before you go the full Hannibal Lecter, he thinks it's locally sourced and all down to the attack at the storage unit.'

'Will he tell the Starks?'

'Why the hell should he? It gives him something over them. And incidentally, he tells me he's going to take them out of the game. Didn't sound like he was joking.'

'We'll deal with that as and when.'

'By sitting back and watching?'

Compston's face hardened. 'You used to run surveillance operations against your own kind, Fox. Like I said yesterday, I'm guessing sometimes you'd have to sit and watch.' He took a step forward, arms by his sides now. 'In fact, from what little I know of you, I'd say you enjoyed watching, and those bruises of yours tell me you'd do well to stick to what you're best at.' He paused, face inches from Fox's. 'Understood?' Without waiting for an answer, he stalked towards the front door, Alec Bell at his heels. This time, Bell kept his gaze directed at the floor. When the door had closed, Fox went back into the bathroom, intent on some paracetamol and that long soak he had promised himself.

When he emerged almost an hour later, having changed into fresh clothes, he had one missed call and one text, both from Bell. The text told him to send a message saying when would be a good time to talk.

Right now, Fox replied. Sixty seconds later, his phone rang.

'Sorry about all that,' Bell said. His voice had a bit of echo to it.

'Where are you?'

'The bogs at St Leonard's. Listen, I felt hellish, not stepping inI just wanted you to know that. I mean, Ricky's right, of course, but all the same...'

'You saw the blade, didn't you?'

'He put it away sharpish.'

'Jackie Dyson, thoughwho also didn't hold back when it came to giving Chick Carpenter a doing.'

'So?'

'My gut feeling is, Dyson's your mole. If I'm right, doesn't it look to you like he might have gone native?'

There was silence on the line.

'Well?' Fox persisted.

'You know I can't say anything.'

'You owe me this much at least, Alec. I went to the ground and you just sat in your damned car...'

'Malcolm-'

'And here's the thingI've had your back throughout, haven't I? I've not told Compston you blabbed about the mole. So just tell meit's Dyson, isn't it?'

'Maybe.'

'And could he be getting too much in character? We've both heard of it happening.'

'Our boy knows what he's doing.'

'You sure about that? How often do you talk to him?'

'Not in a while. That's how it has to work.'

'But have you noticed any change in him?'

'He has to look committed, Malcolmthat's how those guys get where they are and then stay there once they've arrived.' Fox heard the man give a sigh. 'Look, I've got to go. You should take tomorrow off, get some ice on those bruises.'

'Nice of you to show such belated concern.'

'Two final words, then, MalcolmFuck. You.'

The phone went dead, but then suddenly vibrated. Another incoming message, this time from Rebus: Want a dog?

Fox shut the phone down and trekked to the fridge, in search of frozen veg.

'You coming in?' Davie Dunn asked. Christie had pulled up in front of the Gimlet. He gazed out at the pub's uninviting exterior and shook his head, but as Dunn made to get out, he grabbed him by the arm.

'Talked to your old employer recently?' he enquired.

'I'll tell you what I told Stark and his gangI haven't set eyes on Hamish Wright in years.'

'Doesn't mean you've not spoken with him on the phone.'

'He's ancient history, Darryl.'

'You'll be history too, if you don't give me a straight answer.'

'I've not seen him, I've not spoken to him.'