Exit Music

'Ask your friend at Central Monitoring to bring us numberplates for any cars going in or out of King's Stables Road?' She seemed

to be considering it. 'Thing is, Starr's busily rewinding to the mugging scenario.'

'You've not told him about the car?'

'Not yet.'

'Are you going to?' he asked teasingly.

'The alternative being, keep it to myself, just like you would?

Then if I'm right and he's wrong, I get the applause?'

“You're learning.'

'I'll have to mull it over.' But he could tell she was already half convinced. 'So what are you up to? I hear traffic'

'Bit of window-shopping.'

'Pull the other one.' She paused again. 'Nancy's coming back. I better hang up…'

'Tell me, did Starr make one of his “into the breach” speeches?'

'What do you think?'

'I'll bet Goodyear lapped it up.'

'I'm not so sure. Col liked it, though… I've sent him and Phyl to First Alba

'Took him long enough.'

'Well, he's had a lot on his plate – wining and dining the Russians at Gleneagles…'

Not to mention, Rebus could have added, hanging around the Granton seafront with Cafferty and Andropov… Instead, he said his goodbyes and hung up. Looked around him at the small shops: women's boutiques mostly. Realised he was a two-minute walk from the Caledonian Hotel.

Why the hell not?' he asked himself. Answer: no reason at all.

At reception, he asked for 'Mr Andropov's room'. But no one was answering. The clerk asked if he wanted to leave a message, but he shook his head and sauntered into the bar. It wasn't Freddie serving. This bartender was young and blonde and had an East European accent. To her opening question, Rebus replied that he'd have a Highland Park. She offered him ice, and he sensed she was new either to the job or to Scotland. He shook his head and asked where she was from.

'Cracow,' she said. 'In Poland.'

Rebus just nodded. His ancestors had come from Poland, but that was as much as he knew about the place. He slid on to a stool and scooped up some nuts from a bowl.

'Here we are,' she said, placing the drink in front of him.

'And some water, please.'

'Of course.' She sounded flustered, a

mistake. About a pint of tap water arrived in a jug. Rebus added the merest dribble to the glass and swirled it in his hand.

'Meeting someone?' she asked.

'He's here to see me, I think.' Rebus turned towards the speaker.

Andropov must have been sitting in the same booth, the one with the blind spot. He managed a smile, but his eyes were cold.

'Henchman not with you?' Rebus asked.

Andropov ignored this. 'Another bottle of water,' he told the barkeeper. 'And no ice this time.'

She nodded and took the bottle from a fridge, unscrewing it and pouring.

'So, Inspector,' Andropov was saying, 'is it really me you're looking for?'

'Just happened to be in the area. I was visiting Terence Blackman's gallery.'

“You like art?' Andropov's eyebrows had gone up.

'I'm very keen on Roddy Denholm. Especially those early ones where he got the pre-school kids to do some doodles.'

'I think you are being mocking.' Andropov had picked up his drink. 'On my room,' he instructed the bartender. Then, to Rebus: 'Join me, please.'

'This is the same booth?' Rebus asked as they got settled.

'I'm not sure I understand.'

'The booth you were in, the night Alexander Todorov was here.'

'I didn't even know he was in the bar.'

'Cafferty paid for his drink. After the poet had gone, Cafferty then came over here and joined you.' Rebus paused. “You and the Minister for Economic Development.'

'I'm impressed,' Andropov seemed to admit. 'Really I am. I can see you are not a man to cut corners.'

'Can't be bought off, either.'

'I'm sure of that, too.' The Russian gave another smile; again, it didn't reach his eyes.

'So what were you chatting about with Jim Bakewell?'

'Strange as it may seem, we were discussing economic development.'

Tou're thinking of investing in Scotland?'

'I find it such a welcoming country.'

'But we've none of the stuff you're interested in – no gas or coal or steel…'

“You do have gas and coal actually. And oil, of course.'

'About twenty years' worth.'

'In the North Sea, yes – but you're forgetting the waters to the west. Plenty of oil in the Atlantic, Inspector, and eventually we will master the technology, allowing us to extract it. Then there are the alternative energies – wind and wave.'

'Don't forget all that hot air in the Parliament.' Rebus took a sip of his drink, savouring it. 'Doesn't explain why you're eyeing up derelict land in Edinburgh.'

Tou do keep a watchful eye, don't you?'

'Comes with the territory.'

'Is it because of Mr Cafferty?'

'Could be. How did you two get to know one another?'

'Through business, Inspector. All of it above board, I assure you.'

'That why the authorities back in Moscow are preparing to take you down?'

'Politics,' Andropov explained with a pained expression. 'And a refusal to grease the necessary palms.'

'So you're being made an example of?'

'Events will run their course…' He lifted his glass to his lips.

'A lot of rich men are in jail in Russia. You're not scared of joining them?' Andropov just shrugged. 'Lucky you've made plenty of friends here – not just Labour, but the SNP, too. Must be nice to feel so wanted.' Still the Russian said nothing, so Rebus decided on a change of topic. 'Tell me about Alexander Todorov.'

'What would you like to know?'

“You mentioned that he got kicked out of his teaching post for being too friendly with the students.'

Tea?

'I'm not finding anything about it in the records.'

'It was hushed up, but plenty of people in Moscow knew.'

'Fu

Andropov looked at him. 'Once again, I admit I'm impressed.'

'How well did you know him?'

'Hardly at all. I'm afraid I came to represent everything Alexander detested. He would probably use words like “greed” and “ruthlessness”, while I prefer “self-reliance” and “dynamism”.'

'He was an old-fashioned Communist?'

Tou know the English word “bolshie”? It has its roots in “bolshe' vism”, a Russian word. The Bolsheviks were fairly ruthless them- ¦elves, but these days bolshie just means awkward or stubborn… that's what Alexander was.'

'You knew he was living in Edinburgh?'

'I think I saw it mentioned in a newspaper.'

'Did the two of you meet?'

'No.'

'Fu

'Is it?' Andropov shrugged again and took another sip of water.

'So here you both are in Edinburgh, two men who grew up together, famous in your separate ways, and you didn't think to get in touch?'

'We would have had nothing to say to one another,' Andropov declared. Then: 'Would you like another drink, Inspector?'

Rebus noticed that he'd finished the whisky. He shook his head and started to rise from the booth.

'I'll be sure to mention to Mr Bakewell that you dropped by,'

Andropov was saying.

'Mention it to Cafferty, too, if you like,' Rebus retorted. 'He'll tell you, once I get my teeth into something, I don't let go.'

'And yet the pair of you seem very similar… A pleasure talking to you, Inspector.'

Outside, Rebus tried to get a cigarette lit in the swirling breeze.

He had his head tucked into his jacket when the taxi pulled up, which meant he escaped the attention of Megan Macfarlane and Roddy Liddle, the MSP and her assistant marching into the hotel lobby, eyes fixed ahead of them. Rebus, blowing smoke skywards, wondered if Sergei Andropov would hesitate to tell them, too, about his recent visitor…