‘I needed that,’ she said.
Rebus lifted his own glass and toasted her. ‘Slainte.’ Then he took a sip. Gill was smiling.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘rude of me to just hammer it like that.’
‘Rough day?’
‘I’ve had better.’
‘So what brings you here?’
‘A couple of things. As usual, you haven’t been bothering to keep me up to date with any progress.’
‘There’s not much to report.’
‘It’s a dead end then?’
‘I didn’t say that. I just need a few more days.’ He lifted his glass again.
‘Then there’s the small matter of your doctor’s appointment.’
‘Yes, I know. I’ll get round to it, promise.’ He nodded towards the pint. ‘This is my first tonight, by the way.’
‘Aye, that’ll be right,’ Harry muttered, busying himself drying glasses.
Gill smiled, but her eyes were on Rebus. ‘How are things with Jean?’
Rebus shrugged. ‘Fine. She’s concentrating on the historical side.’
‘Do you like her?’
Now Rebus looked at Gill. ‘Does the matchmaker service come free?’
‘I was just wondering.’
‘And you came all this way to ask?’
‘Jean’s been hurt before by an alcoholic, it’s how her husband went.’
‘She told me. Don’t worry on that score.’
She looked down at her drink. ‘How’s it working out with Ellen Wylie?’
‘I’ve no complaints.’
‘Has she said anything about me?’
‘Not really.’ Rebus had finished his drink, waved his glass to signal as much. Harry put down the tea-cloth and started pouring. Rebus felt awkward. He didn’t like Gill being here like this, dropping in and catching him off-guard. He didn’t like that the regulars were listening to every word. Gill seemed to sense his discomfort.
‘Would you rather we did this at the office?’
He shrugged again. ‘How about you?’ he asked. ‘Enjoying the new job?’
‘I think I’ll manage.’
‘I’d put money on it.’ He pointed to her glass, offered a refill. Gill shook her head. ‘I should be going. This was just a quick one before home.’
‘Same here.’ Rebus made a show of checking his watch.
‘I’ve got the car outside...?’
Rebus shook his head. ‘I like to walk, keeps me fit.’
Behind the bar, Harry snorted. Gill wrapped the scarf back around her neck.
‘Maybe see you tomorrow then,’ she said.
‘You know where my office is.’
She studied her surroundings — walls the colour of a used cigarette-filter, dusty prints of Robert Burns — and began to nod. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I do.’ Then she gave a little wave which seemed to take in the whole bar, and was gone.
‘Your boss?’ Harry guessed. Rebus nodded. ‘Swap you,’ the barman said. The regulars started laughing. Another student appeared from the back room, the list of required drinks scribbled on the back of an envelope.
‘Three IPA,’ Harry began to recite, ‘two lager tops, a gin, lime and soda, two Becks and a dry white wine.’
The student looked at the note, then nodded in amazement. Harry winked at his audience.
‘Might be students, but they’re not the only smart bastards round here.’
Siobhan sat in her living room, staring at the message on the laptop’s screen. It was in response to an e-mail she’d sent to Quizmaster, informing him that she was now working on the second clue.
I forgot to tell you, from now on you’re against the clock. In twenty-four hours’ time, the next clue becomes void.
Siobhan got to work on the keyboard: I think we should meet. I have some questions. She hit ‘send’, then waited. His reply was prompt.
The game will answer your questions.
She hit more keys: Did Flip have anyone helping her? Is anyone else playing the game?
She waited for several minutes. Nothing. She was in the kitchen, pouring another half-glass of Chilean red, when she heard the laptop telling her she had a message. Wine splashed on to the back of her hand as she dashed back through.
Hello, Siobhan.
She stared at the screen. The sender’s address was a series of numbers. Before she could reply, the computer told her she had another message.
Are you there? Your light’s on.
She froze, the screen seeming to shimmer. He was here! Right outside! She walked quickly to the window. Down below, a car was parked, headlights still on.
Grant Hood’s Alfa.
He waved up at her. Cursing, she ran to the front door, down the stairs and out of the tenement.
‘Is that your idea of a joke?’ she hissed.
Hood, easing himself from the driver’s seat, seemed stunned by her reaction.
‘I just had Quizmaster online,’ she explained. ‘I thought you were him.’ She paused, narrowed her eyes. ‘Just exactly how did you do that?’
Hood held up his mobile phone. ‘It’s a WAP,’ he explained sheepishly. ‘Just got it today. Sends e-mails, the lot.’
She snatched it from him and studied it. ‘Jesus, Grant.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to...’
She handed back the phone, knowing damned well what he’d wanted: to show off his latest gadget.
‘What are you doing here anyway?’ she asked.
‘I think I’ve cracked it.’
She stared at him. ‘Again?’ He shrugged. ‘How come you always wait till late at night?’
‘Maybe that’s when I do my best thinking.’ He glanced up at the tenement. ‘So are you going to invite me in, or do we go on giving the neighbours a free show?’
She looked around. It was true that heads were silhouetted at a couple of windows. ‘Come on then,’ she said.
Upstairs, the first thing she did was check the laptop, but Quizmaster hadn’t replied.
‘I think you scared him off,’ Hood said, reading the onscreen dialogue.
Siobhan fell on to the sofa and picked up her glass. ‘So what have you got for us tonight, Einstein?’
‘Ah, that famous Edinburgh hospitality,’ Hood said, eyeing the glass.
‘You’re driving.’
‘One glass can’t hurt.’
Siobhan got up again, uttering a slight groan of protest, and headed for the kitchen. Hood reached into the bag he’d brought with him and started pulling out maps and guidebooks.
‘What have you got there?’ Siobhan asked, handing him a tumbler and starting to pour. She sat down, drained her own glass, refilled it, and placed what was left of the bottle on the floor.
‘You’re sure I’m not disturbing you?’ He was teasing her — or trying to. But she wasn’t in the mood.
‘Just tell me what you’ve got.’
‘Well... if you’re absolutely sure I’m not...’ Her glare brought him up short. He stared down at the maps. ‘I got thinking about what that lawyer said.’
‘Harriet?’ Siobhan frowned. ‘She said hills are sometimes called laws.’
Hood nodded. ‘“Scots Law”,’ he recited. ‘Meaning maybe we’re looking for a word that means the same thing law does in Scots.’
‘Which would be...?’
Hood unfolded a sheet of paper and started to read aloud. ‘Hill, heights, bank, brae, ben, fell, tor...’ He turned the sheet towards her. ‘The thesaurus is full of them.’
She took the paper from him and started reading the list for herself. ‘We went through all the maps,’ she complained.
‘But we didn’t know what we were looking for. Some of the guides have hills and mountains indexed at the back. For the rest, we check grid reference B4 on each page.’
‘Looking for what exactly?’