Exit Music

'So you know a bit about Andropov… tell me, what's his co

'Listen to yourself, John… pushing sixty and frisky as a pup.'

Stone laughed again, but this time it sounded genuine. “You want Cafferty put away – that much is clear. But the best chance we have of giving you that little retirement gift is if you leave us to get on with it. Cafferty's not going to go to jail because you've been busy tailing him. He's going to be brought down by a paper trail: shell companies, VAT dodges, banks in Bermuda and Lithuania, sweeteners and pay-offs and doctored balance sheets.'

'That why you're busy tailing him?'

'We heard Cafferty on the phone to his lawyer, saying you'd pulled him in. Lawyer wanted to make an official complaint – called it “harassment”; Cafferty wouldn't have it, said it was actually “a bit

flattering”. That's what got us worried, John – don't want a loose ca

'That's because you're so much better at it than I am,' Rebus said.

'You better believe it.' Stone leaned back in his seat, a gesture which seemed to have some significance for Prosser. The Saab's door opened and the fat man got out, tugging at the handle on the Vectra's passenger side.

'How's my hi-fi?' Rebus asked him.

'Good as new.'

Rebus turned his attention back to Stone. The detective handed him his business card.

'Be good,' Stone said. 'Leave the stakeouts to the professionals.'

'I'll sleep on it,' was all Rebus said. He got into his Saab and tried the stereo. The wonky speaker was working again, no sign of damage to the grille or door panel. Had to admit, he was impressed with that, but he managed not to let it show. Reversed out of the car park and made his way back to the main road. His options: a left turn into the city, or a right towards where he'd last seen Cafferty and Andropov. He signalled left and waited for the traffic to clear.

Then took the right turn.

But all three cars had gone. Rebus cursed under his breath. He could keep cruising, or maybe try the Caledonian Hotel. He could head to Cafferty's house and check if he was back.

'Just go home, John,' he told himself.

So that was what he did, working his way through Canonmills and the New Town and the Old Town, along the Meadows and then left into Marchmont itself and Arden Street. Where a parking space – the universe's small reward for his labours – awaited him.

As did two flights of stairs. He wasn't breathing too hard at the top.

Got a glass of water from the kitchen and gulped it, then poured in a fresh inch to carry through to the living room. Added the same amount of whisky and stuck Joh

'Fuck,' Rebus a

There should be mess.

There should be fuss.

John Martyn was singing about some people being crazy. A little later, he would move on to 'Grace and Danger' itself, followed by 'Joh

'Singing my whole life story,' John Rebus told his whisky glass.

What the hell was he going to do with himself if Cafferty was out of bounds? If Stone and his men did actually manage to put the gangster away, cleanly and coldly?

There should be mess.

There should be fuss.

There should be blood…

Day Seven. Thursday 23 November 2006

27

Rebus was parked on the other side of Gayfield Square from the police station. He had a pretty good view of the news crews. TV cameras were being erected or dismantled, depending on how early the teams had arrived. Journalists paced the pavement, mobile phones pressed to their ears, keeping a respectful distance from each other so as not to be tempted into a bit of eavesdropping.

Photographers were wondering how to get anything usable from the dismal cop-shop frontage. Rebus had watched a trickle of suits climb the steps and enter the building. He recognised some – Ray Reynolds, for example. Others were new to him, but they all looked like CID, meaning they'd been seconded to the team. Rebus bit into the remains of his breakfast roll and chewed slowly. When buying the roll, he'd added a coffee, newspaper and orange juice to the order. Skimming through the paper, he'd found more news of the ailing Litvinenko – the poisoning still a mystery – but no mention of Todorov and only a paragraph on Charles Riordan, at the foot of which he was directed to the obituary columns further back. He learned that Riordan had worked on various rock tours in the 1980s, including Big Country and Deacon Blue. One of the musicians was quoted as saying that 'Charlie could mix a sweet sound in an aircraft hangar.' Further back in time, he'd been a session musician, appearing on albums by Nazareth, Frankie Miller and the Sutherland Brothers, which meant Rebus probably owned stuff he'd played on.

'Wish I'd known,' he'd said to himself.

Staring out at the media scrum, he wondered who had leaked the information that the Todorov and Riordan deaths were being linked. Didn't really matter; bound to come out sooner or later.

But it did mean he'd lost an opportunity for leverage. There was a favour he was after, and it would have been nice to offer the titbit in return…

Still no sign of his quarry, however. But an official-looking car had drawn up, Corbyn stepping out, pausing for photos in his smart uniform, shiny cap, and black leather gloves. A morale booster for the troops would be the excuse, but Rebus knew Corbyn would have been alerted to the media. Nothing warmed a chief constable more than a hungry news gathering. He'd have them eating out of his hand. Rebus punched Siobhan's number into his phone.

'High Hiedyin alert,' he warned her.

'Who and where?'

'Corbyn himself, posing for the press. Give him two minutes and he'll be in your face.'

'Meaning you're nearby…'

'Don't worry, he can't see me. How's it all going?'

'We're going to have to speak to Nancy Sievewright yet again.'

'Has she had any more grief from the banker?'

'Not that I know of.' Clarke paused. 'So what else are you up to, apart from this morning's stakeout?'

'To tell you the truth, I'm just relieved I don't have to come in… not with officers of the calibre of Rat-Arse Reynolds to contend with.'

'Don't.'

'Thought I saw young Todd heading inside, too, clean suit and everything…'

Tes.'

'I was thinking you might've dropped him, now his brother's part of the deal.'

'Phyl shares your interest, but Todd's busy reviewing about two hundred hours of committee tapes made by Charles Riordan.

Should keep him out of harm's way.'

'And you've kept the Chief informed?'

'That's my call, not yours.'