Страница 9 из 99
“Well, nobody makes them do bad things either,” Rebus had retorted.
“Ah,” Gates had conceded. “A conundrum pored over by wiser heads than ours through the centuries. What makes us keep doing these terrible things to each other?”
Gates hadn’t offered an answer. But something else he’d pointed out resonated with Rebus now as he moved to Siobhan’s desk and picked up one of the postmortem photographs of Colliar. In death we all return to i
The phone was ringing again in Starr’s office. Rebus let it ring, picked up Siobhan’s extension instead. There was a Post-it note affixed to the side of her hard disk: rows of names and phone numbers. He knew better than to try the lab, punched in the cell number instead.
Picked up almost immediately by Ray Duff.
“Ray? It’s DI Rebus.”
“Inviting me to join him on a Friday-night pub crawl?” Rebus’s silence was answered with a sigh. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I’m surprised at you though, Ray, shirking your duties.”
“I don’t sleep in the lab, you know.”
“Except we both know that’s a lie.”
“Okay, I work the odd night…”
“And that’s what I like about you, Ray. See, we’re both driven by that passion for the job.”
“A passion I’m jeopardizing by showing my face at my local pub’s trivia night?”
“Not my place to judge you, Ray. Just wondering how this new Colliar evidence is shaping up.”
Rebus heard a tired chuckle at the other end of the phone. “You never let up, do you?”
“It’s not for me, Ray. I’m just helping out Siobhan. This could mean a big promotion for her if she nails it. She’s the one who found the patch.”
“The evidence only came in three hours ago.”
“Ever heard of striking while the iron is hot?”
“But the beer in front of me is cold, John.”
“It would mean a lot to Siobhan, Ray. She’s looking forward to you claiming that prize.”
“What prize?”
“The chance to show off that car of yours. A day out in the country, just the two of you on those winding roads…Who knows, maybe even a hotel room at the end of it if you play your cards right.” Rebus paused. “What’s that music?”
“One of the trivia questions.”
“Sounds like Steely Dan, ‘Reelin’ in the Years.’”
“But how did the band get their name?”
“A dildo in a William Burroughs novel. Now tell me you’re heading to the lab straight after.”
Well satisfied with the outcome, Rebus treated himself to a mug of coffee and a stretch of the legs. The building was quiet. The desk sergeant had been replaced by one of his juniors. Rebus didn’t know the face, but nodded anyway.
“Been trying to get CID to take a call,” the young officer said. He ran a finger along his shirt collar. His neck was pitted with acne or some species of rash.
“That’ll be me then,” Rebus told him. “What’s the emergency?”
“Trouble at the castle, sir.”
“Have the protests started early?”
The uniform shook his head. “Reports of a scream and a body landing in the gardens. Looks like someone fell from the ramparts.”
“Castle’s not open this time of night,” Rebus stated, brow creasing.
“Di
“So who ended up going over the edge?”
The constable just shrugged. “Shall I tell them there’s no one available?”
“Don’t be crazy, son,” Rebus a
As well as being a major tourist attraction, Edinburgh Castle acted as a working barracks, something Commander David Steelforth stressed to Rebus when he intercepted him just inside the portcullis.
“You get about a bit,” Rebus said by way of response. The Special Branch man was dressed formally: bow tie and cummerbund, di
“Thing is, that means it is quite properly under the aegis of the armed forces.”
“I’m not sure what aegis means, Commander.”
“It means,” Steelforth hissed, losing patience, “military police will be looking into the whys and wherefores of what occurred here.”
“Good di
“There are important people here, DI Rebus.”
As if on cue, a car appeared from some sort of tu
“Hope I don’t need to interview him,” Rebus added.
“Look, Inspector…”
But Rebus was moving again. “Here’s the thing, Commander,” he said over his shoulder. “Victim may have fallen-or jumped, or any other ‘why’ or ‘wherefore’-and I’m not disputing he was on army turf when he did, but he landed a few hundred feet farther south, in Princes Street Gardens”-Rebus proffered a smile-“and that makes him mine.”
Rebus started walking again, trying to remember the last time he’d been inside the castle walls. He’d brought his daughter here, of course, but twenty-odd years ago. The castle dominated the Edinburgh skyline. You could see it from Bruntsfield and Inverleith. On the drive in from the airport, it took on the aspect of a lowering Transylvanian lair, and made you wonder if you’d lost your color vision. From Princes Street, Lothian Road, and Johnston Terrace its volcanic sides seemed sheer and impregnable-and so they had proved over the years. Yet approaching from the Lawnmarket, you climbed a gentle slope to its entrance, with little hint of its enormous presence.
The drive from Gayfield Square had almost stymied Rebus. Uniformed cops hadn’t wanted to let him use Waverley Bridge. A great grinding and clanking of metal as the barriers were dragged into position for tomorrow’s march. He’d sounded his horn, ignoring gestures that he should find another route. When one officer had approached, Rebus had rolled down the window and shown his ID.
“This route’s closed,” the man stated. English accent, maybe Lancashire.
“I’m CID,” Rebus told him. “And behind me there’s going to be maybe an ambulance, a pathologist, and a Scene of Crime van. Want to tell them the same story?”
“What’s happened?”
“Someone’s just landed in the gardens.” Rebus nodded toward the castle.
“Bloody protesters…one got stuck on the rocks earlier. Fire brigade had to winch him down.”
“Well, much as I’d like nothing better than a chat…”
The officer scowled but moved the barrier aside.
Now another barrier had placed itself in front of Rebus: Commander David Steelforth.
“This is a dangerous game, Inspector. Better left to those of us specializing in intelligence.”
Rebus’s eyes narrowed. “You calling me thick?”
A short, barked laugh. “Not at all.”
“Good.” Rebus moved past him again. He saw where he was supposed to go. Military guards peering over the edge of the battlements. A cluster of elderly and distinguished-looking men, dressed for di
“This where he fell?” Rebus asked the guards. He had his ID open but had decided not to identify himself as civilian police.
“Must be about the spot,” someone answered.
“Anyone see it?”
There were shakes of the head. “There was an incident earlier,” the same soldier said. “Some idiot got stuck. We were warned more of them might try.”
“And?”
“And Private Andrews thought he saw something round the other side.”
“I said I wasn’t sure,” Andrews said, defending himself.
“So you all skedaddled to the other side of the castle?” Rebus made a show of sucking in breath. “That used to be called deserting your post.”
“Detective Inspector Rebus has no jurisdiction here,” Steelforth was telling the group.