'I appreciate that .. .' Rebus began.

Gates lifted his cummerbund and pointed to the pager hidden there. 'Even tonight, we could get a call, another body to deal with.'

'I don't think you're winning them over,' Leary said, laughing.

121 Rebus fixed Gates with a hard look. 'I'm serious,' he said.

'So am I. First night off I've had in ages, and you're after one of your famous "favours".'

Rebus decided there was no point pushing it, not when Gates was in a mood. Hard day at the office maybe, but then weren't they all?

Devlin cleared his throat. 'Might I perhaps 9'

Leary slapped Devlin's back. 'There you are, John. A willing victim!'

'I know I've been retired a good few years, but I don't suppose the theory and practice have changed.'

Rebus looked at him. 'Actually,' he said, 'the most recent case is nineteen eighty-two.'

'Donald was still wielding the scalpel in eighty-two,' Gates said. Devlin acknowledged this truth with a small bow.

Rebus hesitated. He wanted someone with a bit of clout, someone like Gates.

'Motion carried,' Curt said, deciding the matter for him.

Siobhan Clarke sat in her living room watching TV. She'd tried cooking herself a proper dinner, but had given up hallway through chopping the red peppers, putting everything in the fridge and pulling a ready-meal from the freezer. The empty container was on the floor in front of her. She sat on the sofa with her legs tucked under her, head resting on one arm. The laptop was on the coffee table, but she'd unhooked her mobile phone. She didn't think Quizmaster would be calling again. She lifted her notepad and stared at the clue. She'd gone through dozens of sheets of paper, working out possible anagrams and meanings. Seven fins high is king ... and mentions of the queen and 'the bust': it sounded like something from a card game, but the compendium of card games she'd borrowed from the Central Library hadn't been any help. She was just wondering if she should read it through a final time when her phone rang.

'Hello?'

'It's Grant.'

Siobhan turned the sound down on the TV. 'What's up?'

'I think maybe I've cracked it.'

Siobhan swivelled her legs so her feet were on the floor. 'Tell me,' she said.

'I'd rather show you.'

There seemed to be a lot of background noise on the line. She stood up. 'Are you on your mobile?' she asked.

122 Yes.'

'Where are you?'

'Parked right outside.'

She walked over to the window and looked out. Sure enough, his Alfa was sitting in the middle of the street. Siobhan smiled. 'Find a parking space then. My buzzer's second from the top.'

By the time she'd taken the dirty dishes through to the sink, Grant was at her intercom. She checked anyway that it was him, then pressed the button to let him into the tenement. She was standing by the open door when he hauled himself up the last few steps.

'Sorry it's so late,' he said, 'but I couldn't keep it to myself.'

'Coffee?' she asked, closing the door after him.

'Thanks. Two sugars.'

They took the coffees into the living room. 'Nice place,' he said.

'I like it.'

He sat down next to her on the sofa and placed his coffee mug on the table. Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a London A-Z.

'London?' she said.

'I went through all the kings I could think of from history, then anything else to do with the word king.' He held up the book so its back cover was showing. A map of the London Underground.

'King's Cross?' she guessed. He nodded. 'Take a look.'

She took the book from him. He could hardly sit still in his seat. 'Seven fins high is king,' he said.

'And you think the king is King's Cross?'

He slid across the sofa, his finger tracing the light-blue line which went through the station. 'Do you see?' he said.

'No,' she said grimly. 'So you'd better tell me.'

'Go one stop north of King's Cross.'

'Highbury and Islingron?'

'And again.'

'Finsbury Park ... then Seven Sisters.'

'Now backwards,' he said. He was practically bouncing on the spot.

'Don't wet yourself,' she said. Then she looked at the map again. 'Seven Sisters ... Finsbury Park ... Highbury and Islingion ... King's Cross.' And saw it. The exact same sequence, but abbreviated.'Seven... Fins... High Is... King.' She looked at Grant. He was nodding. 'Well done you,' she added, meaning it. Grant leaned 123 over and gave her a hug, which she squirmed out of. Then he leapt from the sofa and clapped his hands together.

'I couldn't believe it myself,' he said. 'The way it just suddenly screamed at me. It's the Victoria Line.'

She nodded, couldn't think of anything to say. It was indeed a section of London Underground's Victoria Line.

'But what does it mean?' she said at last.

He sat down again, leaning forward, elbows on knees. 'That's what we have to work out next.'

She slid across the sofa a little, making some space between them, then lifted her pad and read from it. "'This queen dines well before the bust."' She looked at him, but he just shrugged.

'Could the answer be in London?' she asked.

'I don't know,' he said. 'Buckingham Palace? Queen's Park Rangers?' He shrugged. 'Could be London.'

'All these Underground stops ... what do they mean?'

'They're all on the Victoria Line,' was all he could think to say. Then they stared at one another.

'Queen Victoria,' they said in unison.

Siobhan had a London guidebook, bought for a weekend away which she'd never taken. It took her a while to find it. Meantime Grant booted up the computer and did a search on the Internet.

'Could be the name of a pub,' he suggested. 'Like in EastEnders.' ~es,' she said, busy reading. 'Or the Victoria and Albert Museum.'

'Not forgetting Victoria Station - also on the Victoria Line. There's a coach station there too. Worst cafeteria in Britain.'

~ou're speaking from experience?'

'I bussed it down there a few weekends in my teens. Didn't like it.' He was scrolling down some text.

'Didn't like the bus or didn't like London?'.'

'Both, I suppose. "Bust" couldn't mean a drug bust, could it?'

'Maybe. Or some stock-market crash. There was one not that long back, wasn't there? Black Monday?'

He nodded.

'Still, more likely it's a statue,' she said. 'Maybe of Queen Victoria, with a restaurant in front of it.'

They worked in silence for a while after that, until Siobhan's eyes started to hurt and she got up to make more coffee.

'Two sugars,' Grant said.

'I remember.' She looked at him, hunched over the computer screen, one knee pumping away. She wanted to say something 124 about the hug ... warn him off somehow ... but she knew she'd missed her chance.

Bringing the mugs back through from the kitchen, she asked if he'd found anything.

'Tourist sites,' he said. He took the mug from her with a nod of thanks.

'Why London?' she asked.

'What do you mean?' His eyes were still on the screen.

'I mean, why not somewhere closer to home?'

'Could be Quizmaster lives in London. We don't know, do we?'

'No.'

'And who's to say Flip Balfour was the only one playing the game? Something like this, my bet is there's a website somewhere - or was. 'Anyone wanting to join in could go there. They wouldn't all come from Scotland.'

She nodded. 'I'm just wondering ... was Flip bright enough to solve this clue?'

'Obviously, or she wouldn't have gone on to the next level.'

'But maybe this is a new game,' she said. He turned his head to look at her. 'Maybe it's just for us.

'If we ever meet the bastard, I'll be sure to ask him.'

A further half-hour later, Grant was working his way through a list of London restaurants. ~ou wouldn't believe how many Victoria Roads and Victoria Streets there are in this bloody place, and half of them have restaurants on them.'

He leaned back, straightening his spine. The energy seemed to have leached out of him.

'And that's before we start looking at pubs.' Siobhan ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it back tight from her forehead. 'It's too . .

'What?'

'The first bit of the clue was clever. But this . . . this is just looking at lists. Does he expect us to go to London, visit every chip shop and cafe' in the hope of finding Queen Victoria's bust?'

'He can whistle if he does.' Grant's chuckle was empty of humour. Siobhan looked at the book of card games. She'd spent a couple of hours flicking through it, and all the time looking for the wrong thing in the wrong place. She'd only just got to the library in time. Five minutes till closing. Left her car on Victoria Street and prayed she didn't get a ticket . .

Victoria Street?' she said out loud.

'Take your pick, there are dozens of the buggers.'

125 I.

'And some of them are right here,' she told him.

He looked up. ~es,' he said, 'they are.'

He went down to his car, brought back an Ordnance Survey atlas of East-Central Scotland, opened it at the index and ran his finger down the list.

'7ictoria Gardens ... there's a Victoria Hospital in Kirkcaldy... Victoria Street and Victoria Terrace in Edinburgh.' He looked at her. 'What do you think?'

'I think there are a couple of restaurants in Victoria Street.'

'Any statues?'

'Not on the outside.'

He checked his watch. 'They won't be open at this hour, will they?' , She shook her head. 'First thing tomorrow, she said. 'Breakfast s on me.'

Rebus and Jean sat in the Palm Court. She was drinking a long vodka, while he nursed a ten-year-old Macallan. The waiter had brought a little glass jug of water, but Rebus hadn't disturbed it. He hadn't been inside the Balmoral Hotel in years. Back then it had been the North British. The old place had changed a bit in the interim. Not that Jean seemed interested in her surroundings, not now she'd heard Rebus's story.

'So they might all have been murdered?' she said, her face pale. The lights in the lounge had been turned low, and a pianist was playing. Rebus kept recognising snatches of tunes; he doubted Jean had taken in any of them.

'It's possible,' he admitted.