Michaelson offered a shrug and folded his arms.

‘Battery change,’ Naysmith broke in, switching off the camera. Michaelson stretched his back. Fox heard the clicking of vertebrae. Tony Kaye was on his feet, shaking each leg as if trying to get the circulation going.

‘Much longer?’ Michaelson asked.

‘That’s up to you,’ Fox told him.

‘Well we all still get paid at the end of the day, eh?’

‘Not in a rush to get back to your desk?’

‘Doesn’t really matter, does it? You tidy up one crime, another two or three are just around the corner.’

Fox saw that Joe Naysmith was going through the pockets of the equipment bag. Naysmith knew he was being watched, looked up, and had the good sense to look contrite.

‘The spare’s still charging,’ he said.

‘Where?’ Tony Kaye asked.

‘The office.’ Naysmith paused. ‘In Edinburgh.’

‘Meaning we’re done?’ Gary Michaelson’s eyes were on Malcolm Fox.

‘So it would seem,’ Fox answered, grudgingly. ‘For now…’

‘What a complete and utter waste of a day,’ said Tony Kaye, not for the first time. They had retraced their route back to Edinburgh, still mainly in the outside lane. This time, the bulk of the traffic was heading into Fife, the bottleneck on the Edinburgh side of the Forth Road Bridge. Their destination was Police HQ on Fettes Avenue. Chief Inspector Bob McEwan was still in the office. He pointed to the battery charger next to the kettle and mugs.

‘Wondered about that,’ he said.

‘Wonder no more,’ Fox replied.

The room wasn’t large, because Counter Corruption comprised a small team. Most Complaints officers worked in a larger office along the corridor where Professional Ethics and Standards handled the meat-and-potatoes workload. This year, McEwan seemed to be spending most of his time in meetings to do with restructuring the whole department.

‘Basically, writing myself out of a job,’ as he had put it himself. ‘Not that you should worry your pretty little heads…’