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HOGAN: My mum always told me never to lie, sir. Thanks again for your time.
Rebus looked at Hogan. `Your mum?’
Hogan shrugged. `Maybe it was my gra
Rebus drained his coffee. `So we know one of Lintz's mealtime companions.’
`And we know he was hounding Colquhoun.’
`Is he a suspect?’
`I'm not exactly snowed under with them.’
`Fair point, but all the same…’
`You think he's on the level?’
`I don't know, Bobby. He sounded like he had it rehearsed. And he was relieved at the end.’
`You don't think I got it all? I could bring him in again.’
Rebus was thinking: stories you hear… the guilty being spirited array. Not stories you read, but ones you hear… Who might he have heard them from? Candice? Jake Tarawicz? Hogan rubbed the bridge of his nose.
`I need a drink.’
Rebus dropped his beaker into a waste-bin. `Message received and understood. By the way, any word from Abernethy?’
`He's a bloody nuisance,' Hogan said, turning away.
26
He's in place,' Claverhouse said, when Rebus phoned him to ask about Jack Morton. `Got him a little one-bedroom shit-hole in Polwarth. Measured him up for his uniform, and he's now officially a member of on-site security.’
`Is anyone else in on it?’
`Just the big boss. His name's Livingstone. We had a long session with him last night.’
`Won't the other security men find it a bit odd, a stranger arriving in their midst?’
`It's down to Jack to put them at ease. He was pretty confident.’
`What's his cover?’
`Secret drinker, open gambler, busted marriage.’
`He doesn't drink.’
`Yes, he told me. Doesn't matter, so long as everyone thinks he does.’
`Is he in character?’
`Getting there. He's going to be working double shifts. That way he makes more trips to the shop, some in the evening when the place is quieter. More chance to get to know Ken and Dec. We've no contact with him during the day. Debriefing takes place once he's reached home. Telephone only, can't risk too many meetings.’
`You think they'll watch him?’
`If they're being thorough. And if they fall for the plan.’
`Did you talk to Marty Jones?’
`That's set for tomorrow. He'll bring a couple of heavies, but they'll go easy on Jack.’
`Isn't tomorrow a bit soon?’
`Can we afford to wait? They might already have someone in mind.’
`We're asking a lot of him.’
`He was your idea.’
`I know.’
`You don't think he's up to it?’
`It's not that… but he's stepping into a war.’
`Then get the ceasefire sorted out.’
`It is.’
'That's not what I hear…’
Rebus heard it too, as soon as he got off the phone. He knocked on the Chief Super's door. The Farmer was in conference with Gill Templer.
`Did you talk to him?’ the Farmer asked.
`He agreed to a ceasefire,' Rebus said. He was looking at Templer. `What about you?’
She took a deep breath. `I spoke to Mr Telford – his solicitor was present throughout. I kept telling him what we wanted, and the lawyer kept telling me I was blackening his client's name.’
`And Telford?’
`Just sat there, arms folded, smiling at the wall.’
Colour was creeping up her face. `I don't think he looked at me once.’
`But you gave him the message?’
`Yes.’
`You said Cafferty would comply?’
She nodded.
`Then what the hell's happening?’
`We can't let it get out of control,' the Farmer said.
`Looks to me like it already is.’
The latest score-line: two of Cafferty's men, their faces mashed to something resembling fruit-pulp.
`Lucky they're not dead,' the Farmer went on.
`You know what's happening?’
Rebus said. `It's Tarawicz, he's the problem. Tommy's playing up to him.’
`It's times like this you yearn for independence,' the Farmer agreed. `Then we could just extradite the bugger.’
`Why don't we?’
Rebus suggested. `Tell him his presence here is no longer acceptable.’
`And if he stays?’
`We shadow him, make sure everyone knows we're doing it. We make nuisances of ourselves.’
`You think that would work?’
Gill Templer sounded sceptical. `Probably not,' Rebus agreed, slumping into a chair.
`We've no real leverage,' the Farmer said, glancing at his watch. `Which isn't going to please the Chief Constable. He wants me in his office in half an hour.’
He got on the phone, ordered a car, rose to his feet.
`Look, see if you can thrash something out between you.’
Rebus and Templer exchanged a look.
`I'll be back in an hour or two.’
The Farmer looked around, as if he were suddenly lost. `Lock the door when you leave.’
With that and a wave of his hand, he left. There was silence in the room.
`Has to keep his office locked,' Rebus said, `to stop people stealing the secret of his terrible coffee.’
`Actually, it's been getting better recently.’
`Maybe your taste buds are being corroded. So, Chief Inspector…’
Rebus turned his chair to face hers. `What about thrashing it out then, eh?’
She smiled. `He thinks he's losing it.’
`Is he in for a bollocking?’
`Probably.’
`So it's down to us to come to the rescue?’
`I don't really see us as the Dynamic Duo, do you?’
`No.’
`Then there's always that part of you that says, let them tear each other apart. So long as no civilians get caught in the crossfire.’
Rebus thought of Sammy, of Candice. `Thing is,' he said, `they always do.’
She looked at him. `How are you doing?’
`Same as ever.’
`As bad as that?’
`It's my calling.’
`You're done with Lintz though?’
Rebus shook his head. `There's half a chance he ties in to Telford.’
`You still think Telford was behind the hit-and-run?’
`Telford or Cafferty.’
'Cafferty?’
`Setting up Telford, the way someone tried to set me up for Matsumoto.’
`You know you're not out of the woods?’
He looked at' her. `An internal inquiry? The men with rubber soles?’
She nodded. `Bring them on.’
He sat forward in his chair, rubbed his temples. `No reason they should be left out of the party.’
`What party?’
`The one inside my head. The party that never stops.’
Rebus leaned across the desk to answer the phone. `No, he's not here. Can I take a message? This is DI Rebus.’
A pause; he was looking at Gill Tempter. `Yes, I'm working that case.’
He found pen and paper, started writing. `Mmm, I see. Yes, sounds like. I'll let him know when he gets back.’
Eyes boring into hers. Then the punchline:
`How many did you say were dead?’
Just the one. Another fled the scene, holding his arm, all but severed from the shoulder. He turned up at a local hospital later, needing surgery and a huge transfusion of blood.
In broad daylight. Not in Edinburgh, but Paisley. Telford's hometown, the town he still ruled. Four men, dressed in council work jackets, like a road team. But in place of picks and shovels, they'd toted machetes and a large-calibre revolver. They'd chased two men into a housing scheme. Kids playing on tricycles; kicking a ball up the street. Women hanging out of their windows. And grown men itching to hurt one another. A machete swung overhead, coming down hard. The wounded man kept ru