In a House of Lies

55

6.30 a.m., still dark outside, weekend workers just beginning to trek into town, quarter-filled buses, windows misted with condensation, and a few pedestrians seeking out early-opening shops or those that stayed open round the clock. Clarke had made them coffee, Rebus asking if the newsagent’s would be open. Fox had argued that there’d be nothing in the papers that hadn’t already been reported online.

‘Ever tried reading the racing pages on a phone?’ Rebus had countered.

They’d then split up — Clarke and Fox heading to Leith, while Rebus took Brillo for a Meadows pit stop before the Arden Street flat.

‘Normal service will be resumed,’ he promised the dog, turning to leave.

Just the one journalist outside Leith police station. He looked junior and cold. He asked Rebus what time they’d be bringing Hazard back.

‘Soon,’ Rebus answered, taking pity on him. The young man took his phone out, ready to alert his colleagues. Rebus realised the same question would have been asked of Clarke and Fox, but they’d stonewalled.

Some short straw, that, he argued to himself as he headed indoors; like stakeouts in the old days, bum going numb and nowhere to pee... The desk officer recognised him this time, waved him through.

Sutherland was waiting at the top of the stairs, flanked by Clarke and Fox. The DCI was as well dressed as ever but pallid and tense. He pointed at Rebus.

‘Out you go,’ he commanded.

‘Listen, I think I might be able...’

But Sutherland was already striding into the MIT room. He half turned, eyes on Clarke. ‘He’s still here in thirty seconds, you’re off the team.’

The arm Clarke stretched to her side could either have been apologetic or a gesture of dismissal.

‘Tell him I can help,’ Rebus said.

‘If all else fails,’ Clarke agreed with a nod.

‘I’ll sit in my car.’ He fixed her with a stare. ‘Keep me posted unless you want me causing a scene in front of the press.’

She gave a slow nod, which he only half believed.

In MIT, Sutherland was being briefed by Reid and Crowther. The others had yet to arrive. Not much of use from the lab, but the soil sample had proved a ninety per cent match, which, Professor Hamilton had indicated, was good enough for a courtroom.

‘No prints on the tarp?’ Fox asked.

‘Just the farmer’s,’ Reid said. ‘And a bit of paint from a car the same colour and age as the Polo. They couldn’t give us a definitive match.’

‘Hazard’s prints aren’t on the cuffs?’

‘He was savvy enough to wear gloves when they moved the car. Maybe he’s always been clever that way.’

‘He wore gloves when he attacked Bloom?’

‘If he attacked Bloom,’ Sutherland felt it necessary to qualify.

‘You’re having doubts, sir?’ Clarke asked.

‘Right now it’s Carlton’s word against his. Even if those handcuffs had at some point in the past been in Hazard’s possession, all he has to tell a court is that he lost them. Maybe his farming friend picked them up or stole them from him.’ He met Clarke’s eyes. ‘Who was it ran from you? Who was it had the car on his land until selling that land meant he needed to move it?’

‘Everything points towards Carlton rather than Hazard,’ Reid agreed.

‘Except,’ Clarke argued, ‘Carlton didn’t do a runner after the crime and change his identity, change his whole life. And he didn’t know the victim.’

‘We don’t know that Hazard knew him either.’

‘Hazard hung around whenever a film was being made, which puts him next to Jackie Ness, and Bloom was working for Ness as well as appearing as an extra in his films.’

‘We’re going round in circles,’ Sutherland said, not bothering to conceal his frustration. ‘And pretty soon we’re going to have to release Hazard from custody.’

‘Or charge him,’ Clarke commented.

‘With no evidence? His lawyer will boot that out of the park.’

‘The farmer’s statement is fairly compelling,’ Crowther interrupted.

‘I doubt Francis Dean will see it that way,’ Sutherland told her.

‘And we’ve dug up nothing from Hazard’s past? None of his old friends, contacts, clients?’

Reid handed the paperwork to Clarke. ‘Look for yourself. Seems he stopped dealing, started applying himself, found his métier in public relations...’

‘All of which happened straight after Bloom’s disappearance,’ Clarke muttered.

‘We’ve gone through his flat, his email accounts. We’ve dug up old girlfriends, people he shared digs with during his years in Glasgow. No police record, not so much as a speeding fine or parking ticket.’

‘A man who couldn’t risk getting into trouble,’ Crowther stated.

Sutherland was checking a message on his phone. ‘And on his way here as we speak. His solicitor’s probably downstairs waiting.’ He turned to Reid. ‘Can you try to rouse our sleeping beauties?’

Just as he finished speaking, Leighton and Yeats appeared in the doorway, Gamble toiling behind them. All three looked breathless as they offered their apologies.

‘Don’t bother getting comfortable,’ Sutherland said. ‘George and Phil, I want you at the forensic lab, make sure they did all the tests known to man, woman and the beasts of the field. The car, the tarpaulin, the handcuffs. The lab have got DNA for Glenn Hazard. If he left a drop of sweat, a strand of hair, or spittle from a cough, I want it. Understood? The rest of you are going to comb through everything we’ve compiled on Hazard thus far. Plenty gaps in his life story; we might have missed something crucial. Malcolm and Tess, one last dig through the original case files — is he lurking somewhere in there?’ He nodded towards Reid. ‘Callum, you’re with me in the interview room.’ Then, to the room at large: ‘I want us lining the corridor when Hazard gets here. A combination of hundred-yard stares and a gleam in the eye that tells him we know we’ve got him.’ He clapped his hands. ‘We need a result, folks, and that means getting busy. Think you’ve put in some tough shifts? Today’s going to be a brand-new definition of hard work. Let’s get started...’

56

Rebus saw the van arrive and emerged from his Saab to watch the circus. The press had been alerted and were ready to pounce. There was no rear entrance to the police station, no alleyway where the van could deposit its cargo. Reporters and cameras surrounded Glenn Hazard as he was led across the pavement to the police station’s door. He looked bemused, the very picture of innocence. His lawyer was waiting at the steps, ready for battle, his freshly shaved face roseate and gleaming. Rebus didn’t know him, but he knew the type — tailored like a shop-window mannequin and spritzed all over by an aerosol called privilege. The escorts eventually got Hazard indoors and the scrum began to thin out, as cameras and phones were checked, updates sent to news desks and social media outlets. Laura Smith approached Rebus with a smile that was trying not to seem overly professional.

‘No comment, Laura,’ Rebus told her.

‘Strictly off the record, John, with you being a civilian and all...’

‘Go on then.’

‘Is there enough in the tank?’

‘To charge him?’ Rebus waited for her to nod. ‘Like you say, I’m a civilian.’

‘Yet you’re sticking to this case like glue. I hear you turned up here earlier not long after Fox and Siobhan.’

‘I’m impressed.’ Rebus was seeking out the young reporter who’d been acting as nightwatchman.

‘He’s on a well-earned break,’ Smith said. ‘He might be young, but he prides himself on knowing faces and the names that come with them.’ She paused. ‘If someone were to mention in print your involvement, that might jeopardise any eventual prosecution, no?’

‘What is it you want, Laura?’

‘A heads-up.’

‘Siobhan’s the one you should be asking.’

‘But I don’t seem to have any leverage over Siobhan.’

‘If you interfere and the case goes tits up, you might as well delete her from your contacts.’

‘I just need to be an hour ahead of the competition, John.’

‘Right now, I can’t help you.’ He gestured towards the paving slabs they were standing on. ‘I’m out in the cold, same as you.’

‘But...?’

‘Time’s almost up. If MIT don’t want to have to spring Hazard, they’re going to need a bit of help.’

‘Help from you, you mean?’

‘So maybe stick around another hour or two and see what happens.’

‘I’ve not got my car, though.’ She peered over his shoulder towards the Saab. ‘Any chance I can sit in the warm with you?’

‘No.’

‘Are you afraid my superbly honed skills would get the better of you and you’d end up letting something slip?’

‘Aye, right.’ Rebus’s mouth twitched.

‘Then why not put that confidence to the test? How else are you going to pass the time?’

‘I thought I might take up a foreign language.’

She nodded. ‘Conversation’s always the best way to learn. I can offer you French, German, a smattering of Italian...’

Rebus felt his resistance melt a little. ‘All right then, but tell me something first — and no lying.’

‘Sure.’

‘Are you really here without a car?’

‘Really, yes.’

‘And how many streets over did you leave it?’

She drew in her lips for a moment. ‘Two,’ she eventually confessed.

Rebus nodded and turned back to the Saab, knowing she was following. ‘Then be prepared for a numb posterior and no facilities.’

57

Graham Sutherland emerged from his toilet break to find Clarke in the corridor. She gestured towards the stairs, pausing halfway down and waiting for him.

‘Your face,’ she began, ‘tells me there’s been no breakthrough. Nothing from the lab or anywhere else. It’s still all hearsay, with no corroboration. We both know what the fiscal will say to that.’

‘This isn’t exactly balm to the soul, Siobhan — what’s your point?’

‘I think John knows something, something that could help.’

‘And what exactly does he know?’

‘He’ll only say it to Glenn Hazard’s face.’

‘Not possible.’

‘Why not? You’ll be there and so will Hazard’s lawyer. It’ll all be recorded. I don’t see that it necessarily blunts our case.’

‘You’ve no inkling what Rebus would say in there?’ He watched as she shook her head. ‘Then it’s too risky.’

‘I don’t think so, not when there are other bodies in the room who can call a halt if necessary.’ Clarke was holding out her phone. ‘Talk to him. What harm can it do to just listen? If we have to let Hazard go, who’s to say he won’t do another vanishing act?’

Sutherland hesitated, then snatched the phone from her, only to have to hand it back so she could find Rebus’s number and ring it. He took it from her again, more gently this time.

‘Rebus,’ the voice said.

‘It’s DCI Sutherland, John. Siobhan tells me you might have information that could help us with Glenn Hazard.’

‘I think so.’

‘Could you tell me what it is?’

‘I need to tell him myself.’

‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. His lawyer—’

‘I’m not fussed about his lawyer. But there might be things you don’t want to hear.’

‘A police officer needs to be present.’

‘So be it.’ Silence on the line. ‘Do you want me or not?’

‘I’ll need to clear it with Francis Dean first.’

‘He’s the lawyer?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll be there in two minutes. Make sure they let me past the front desk.’

Rebus ended the call. Sutherland handed the phone back to its owner.

‘I take it that’s a yes then?’ Clarke said.

‘It’s a maybe,’ Sutherland replied, starting back up the stairs.

When Rebus walked into the interview room, Callum Reid left with a glower he’d spent some time preparing. Hazard sat with arms folded, alongside his solicitor. The room was stuffy and Dean had removed his jacket but kept his waistcoat on. It boasted a fob watch on a gold chain, just when Rebus thought he couldn’t dislike lawyers more than he already did.

Sutherland was making sure he could work the recording equipment. Rebus took the chair next to him, still warm from Reid’s posterior. Hazard had demolished one mug of tea and been brought another.

‘Do you two know one another?’ the lawyer asked. Rebus looked to Hazard and shook his head.

‘Never met,’ he said.

‘We can put it on record that you’ve never met or spoken with my client until this day?’

‘We can,’ Rebus confirmed.

‘And can we also agree that this is highly unusual practice and that any conversation may be inadmissible in future proceedings?’

But Rebus’s focus was on Hazard now. ‘You should tell your lawyer to leave,’ he said.

‘That’s not going to happen,’ Dean stated. Rebus ignored him, locking eyes with Hazard.

‘We’re going to be talking about Rogues nightclub, almost exactly two months before Stuart Bloom died. But I want to do it without a stuffed shirt in the room.’

Hazard just stared, but Rebus had been in plenty of these contests before. He tried to look bored, folded his arms even, and arched his head as if the ceiling had suddenly become extraordinarily interesting to him.

‘Look, DCI Sutherland,’ Dean began, colour rising to his already ruddy cheeks, ‘I’m not sure what game you think you’re playing here, but this has stopped being highly irregular and entered the realm of the absurd.’

Sutherland was looking to Rebus for an explanation, but it was Hazard who spoke. ‘Does your guy leave too?’

‘I told him he should, but he’s adamant.’

Dean had turned towards his client. ‘In which case, it would be rash in the extreme for you to sit here without any counsel being present.’

Hazard nodded and leaned back a little in his chair. ‘Off you go, Francis, but not too far — just outside the door will do.’

‘I’ll only need five or ten minutes,’ Rebus said.

‘Glenn, I urge you to reconsider—’

‘Just fuck off, will you, Francis? Don’t worry, the money meter keeps ticking over.’ Hazard lifted his mug and drained it. The lawyer’s face was almost puce as he gathered his papers, grabbed his jacket and shouldered open the door. Once he was gone, Rebus leaned across Sutherland and stopped the recording.

‘Wait a moment,’ Sutherland began to complain.

‘You’re free to leave,’ Rebus said with a new steeliness, knowing the man wouldn’t budge. He met Hazard’s gaze again.

‘You were a dealer back then,’ Rebus began. ‘Small-time. You had to keep dodging and weaving, so as not to appear on the radar of the bigger players — people like Morris Gerald Cafferty.’ He paused. ‘You know the name?’

Hazard nodded.

‘Cafferty even came to the film set,’ Rebus went on. ‘I’m guessing you made yourself scarce that day.’

‘Can I just ask,’ Hazard interrupted, ‘what proof you have of any of this?’

‘Precious little,’ Rebus admitted. ‘But I know you were dealing and I know you sold the dope that put six kids in hospital. I was a cop at the time and I remember it well. Cafferty was the only dealer we knew; even so, we were shocked. His stuff had never been tainted before. Suddenly there are six overdoses in a single night, six admissions to Accident and Emergency. And only five survived — Jamie Spowart didn’t make it. Don’t suppose it meant much to you, but his parents were devastated and probably still are.

‘After that, you had to make yourself scarce. You left Edinburgh, but you kept dealing — on film sets and probably in the towns and villages south of the city. I’m guessing you changed supplier — you didn’t want anyone else snuffing it on your watch. But meantime, we were all over Cafferty like a rash. Which put a dent in his business for a while and also put a black mark beside his name as far as other men of his persuasion were concerned. He’d been wooing an Irish thug called Conor Maloney — name mean anything to you?’ Rebus received a shrug by way of response. ‘I’m pretty sure you knew Stuart Bloom’s name, though. He was a regular at Rogues, maybe even bought a bit from you. Then the kid dies and suddenly you’re off the scene. Few months later, he’s an extra in one of Jackie Ness’s films and spots you, remembers you. So now you have a problem. What happens next, I can only guess. He tried blackmailing you? He was going to go to the police? Maybe you only feared he would do one or the other. So you met up with him, killed him, and dumped the body on your pal’s farm.’ He paused. ‘How does that sound so far, Mr Hazard?’

‘I’m still waiting to hear anything that isn’t a theory.’

‘Theory’s all I have.’

‘And you think I’m suddenly going to throw up my arms and confess?’ Hazard’s eyes had widened.

Rebus was slowly shaking his head. ‘What I think is this: I’m going to leave this room, your lawyer’s going to come back in, DCI Sutherland’s going to fire the apparatus back up, and you’re going to offer him your full and frank admission of guilt.’

‘Is that right?’

‘See, you’re absolutely correct when you say I’ve no proof, and that’s a problem.’

‘You better believe it.’

‘You misunderstand.’ Rebus leaned across the table. ‘It’s not a problem for me, it’s a problem for you.’

Hazard laughed and gestured towards Sutherland. ‘Are you hearing this? You’ve brought a certified nutjob in here.’

Sutherland seemed about to say something, but Rebus waved a hand to stop him. His attention was still on Hazard.

‘In about half an hour from now, we’re letting you go, as is required by law. But I’ll have been on the blower well before then, giving the story to Cafferty. See, Cafferty has a long memory, especially when it comes to vendettas. You cost him a lot of money and a big chunk of his reputation, which it took him years to recover. He’s wanted you since 2006, Glenn. Twelve years he’s festered.’ Rebus paused. ‘But now he’s going to get you. From the moment you walk out of here, you’re a marked man.’

‘Are you hearing this?’ Hazard told Sutherland, a slight but noticeable quaver entering his voice. ‘Your man’s threatening to feed me to the wolves.’

‘Wolves are doubtful,’ Rebus said, ‘though Cafferty does own a pig farm in Fife. We can show you evidence of all the men he’s tortured and murdered down the years. We only put him behind bars once or twice — that’s because he’s good at getting away with it. A lot of those victims vanished into thin air, just like Stuart Bloom. But you’re not quite as capable as Cafferty; Bloom popped up again.’

‘Say I didn’t kill anyone, you’d be sending an innocent man to—’

‘Oh, but we know you did. And that’s what you’ll confess to, so as not to become one of Cafferty’s victims. And in exchange, we can offer you a deal.’

Hazard seemed to calm a little. ‘What sort of deal?’

‘Better than you deserve. After your trial, we’ll ensure you go to HMP Saughton. Why? Because there’s a guy called Darryl Christie in there, a powerful guy who hates Cafferty as much as Cafferty hates the person who sold that overdose. Christie won’t want Cafferty getting to you. In point of fact, he’ll make damned sure he doesn’t. You staying alive will be a thorn in Cafferty’s paw, an irritant that’ll always be there. That’s worth a lot to Darryl Christie, trust me.’

It was Rebus’s turn to lean back in his chair.

‘You’ve got about twenty minutes to decide,’ Sutherland said with renewed vigour.

‘No he hasn’t,’ Rebus corrected him. ‘Because when I leave this room, if we’ve not got a deal, I’m straight on to Cafferty.’ He buttoned his suit jacket and rose to his feet. ‘Oh, and DCI Sutherland? Bring in Clarke rather than Reid when I’ve gone — she’s every bit as good as you think she is.’

‘Wait a sec,’ Hazard said. He was rubbing at his forehead, as if that would help him come to a decision.

‘Time for games is over,’ Rebus told him, making for the door. He paused to remove his phone from a pocket, then placed his hand around the door handle.

‘Please,’ Hazard said, half out of his chair. ‘I need one fucking minute.’

Which was exactly how long Rebus gave him, his eyes on his wristwatch.

‘Okay,’ Hazard said as Rebus pushed the door open. Rebus pulled it closed again and turned to face the room.

‘Okay?’ he echoed, receiving a nod in reply. ‘In which case, I only have one more question for you.’ He approached the table and folded his arms. ‘Who gave you the handcuffs? Was it Brian Steele? Word was, he used to do a bit of coke back then.’

‘I knew him,’ Hazard conceded.

‘You also knew Ness needed handcuffs for his film and you wanted to keep in his good books, so you went to Steele...’

But Hazard was shaking his head. ‘Not Steele,’ he said.

Rebus tried not to let his dismay show. ‘Who then?’

‘His partner.’

Rebus’s eyes narrowed. ‘Grant Edwards?’ He watched Hazard start to nod. ‘Another of your clients?’ Hazard kept nodding. Sutherland was looking at Rebus, but Rebus could only shrug. He pushed open the door again. Francis Dean was waiting across the corridor.

‘He’s all yours,’ Rebus said.

Clarke and Fox were standing in the MIT doorway. Rebus kept his face impassive as he headed for the stairs. As he descended, he heard Sutherland’s voice summoning Clarke to the interview room.

Laura Smith was waiting in the Saab, catching up on emails on her phone.

‘You don’t even have a USB port,’ she complained.

‘Told you vintage cars lack a few amenities.’

‘It’s not vintage, it’s just old. How did it go in there?’

‘Let’s give it half an hour.’

‘They’ll have had to release him by then.’

‘Wait and see,’ Rebus said, turning on the Brian Eno CD. ‘No more talking for a while,’ he told Smith. ‘I need to do a bit of thinking.’

‘Time’s up,’ Smith commented, checking her phone.

‘So it is,’ Rebus agreed.

‘And he’s still in there — meaning he’s talking?’

‘Looks like.’ Rebus allowed himself a small smile.

‘So when do I get the story.’

‘After I get the call. Speaking of which...’ Rebus picked up his vibrating phone and answered it.

‘There were things I heard in there,’ Graham Sutherland said in an undertone, ‘that I probably shouldn’t have.’

‘Which is why I didn’t want you in the room.’

‘Yes, I can see that now.’

‘He’s talking?’

‘Fairly freely, despite the best efforts of his increasingly flustered solicitor.’

‘Has he said why he did it?’

‘We’ve not quite got to that yet, though if I were to guess, I’d say you weren’t far off the mark. I’ve taken a break so Siobhan and Callum can have a go at him. Dean’s furious that you were allowed in; says it taints whatever story his client spins us.’

‘I doubt that’ll sway a jury.’

‘The fiscal, meantime, is highly delighted. I might owe you a drink, John.’

‘Not while I’m on duty, sir.’ A weak enough joke, but Sutherland laughed anyway.

‘I sort of wish you were still on the force.’

‘Aye, me too,’ Rebus confessed.

‘Do you really have any sway with this Christie character?’

Rebus pondered for a moment. ‘Maybe,’ he eventually concluded. ‘Though I’m hardly likely to waste it on a turd like Glenn Hazard.’

‘So he’s on his own then?’ Sutherland paused. ‘And Cafferty?’

‘Will know about it sooner or later.’

‘I really wish I hadn’t stayed in that bloody room...’

‘You going to report me?’

‘Of course not.’

‘Tell Siobhan to call me at end of play.’

‘I will. And thanks again.’

The line went dead. Smith had leaned across so far in her seat that her head was practically in Rebus’s lap.

‘Catch any of that?’ Rebus asked.

‘No.’

‘Just as well.’

‘But he’s confessing to the murder?’

‘Seems like.’

‘Bloody hell, John — what did you say to him?’

‘Whatever was said stays in the confessional.’

‘You’re hardly anyone’s idea of a priest.’

‘I used to drink with one, though, a long time back — maybe he taught me a few tricks.’

58

Mid evening at the Oxford Bar. Rebus, Clarke and Fox had requisitioned the back room. The three of them sat around the table nearest the fire as Clarke filled in the blanks.

‘Hazard’s story is he didn’t know Bloom was dead. He hit him with the corner of his mobile phone. Just wanted him unconscious. The plan was to take him to the farm, tie him up in the byre and persuade him not to go ahead with his plan.’

‘His plan being?’ Fox asked.

‘Bloom had spotted Hazard on the film set. Knew who he was and why he’d suddenly stopped being a presence on the clubbing scene.’

‘The ODs?’

Clarke nodded. ‘Hazard thought he was selling ketamine sourced from China, but the batch was a mix of ketamine and MDMA — in too strong a dose.’ She took a sip from her glass. ‘If Hazard didn’t do what Bloom wanted, he was going to start talking — either to us or to Cafferty.’

Rebus watched her from above the rim of his own glass. ‘And what did Bloom want?’

‘He’d already broken into Brand’s office. He reckoned that if you could take something, it would be just as easy to leave something.’

‘He was going to plant drugs there?’

‘Either in the office or more likely the house. Then he’d tip off the police or the press and Brand would no longer be a threat to Jackie Ness’s ambitions.’

‘Why the handcuffs?’

‘As I say, Hazard swears he thought Bloom was knocked out. They were to stop him trying to run off when he woke up — much more effective than round the wrists.’

‘And they stayed on because...?’

Clarke gave a faint smile. ‘Guess.’

‘He’d lost the key?’

‘He’d lost the key,’ she confirmed. ‘When he gets to the farm, he opens the boot and starts to get a bad feeling.’

‘Where’s Andrew Carlton in all of this?’

‘I think Hazard thought he might help put the frighteners on Bloom, but once he saw Bloom was dead, Hazard panicked. Went and got Carlton and told him he just had a car that needed stashing somewhere.’

‘You buy that?’

Clarke considered for a moment, then shrugged. ‘I’m not sure it greatly matters. Carlton’s an accomplice at best. Hazard isn’t saying he was there when he met with Bloom and smacked him.’

‘Where was this meeting anyway?’

‘On the edge of Poretoun Woods — Bloom’s idea, apparently.’

They sat quietly for almost a minute, digesting the story. Rebus was trying to make his IPA last, gripping the glass without drinking from it.

‘Anybody want anything?’

They looked up and saw that Grant Edwards had arrived, his bulk filling the doorway.

‘We’re fine, I think,’ Clarke told him. He disappeared to the bar, coming back with a well-watered whisky. He drew out the chair next to Clarke and sat, taking a sip without bothering to offer a toast.

‘Thanks for coming,’ Rebus said.

‘Was I ever going to do anything else?’

Rebus realised the man wasn’t smiling. He wore a heavy woollen coat and showed no sign that he’d be taking it off.

‘On a scale of one to ten,’ Edwards enquired, ‘how fucked am I?’

‘Eleven,’ Rebus said.

‘Depends on what you’ve got to say,’ Clarke qualified.

‘You know we had a word with Dallas Meikle?’

‘That’s pretty old news,’ Clarke told him.

‘And dealt with,’ Rebus added. ‘Dallas Meikle is our guy now.’

‘This won’t be any use to you then.’ Edwards had dug his phone out of his pocket. He gave it a few taps and held it up so they could hear the recording. It was rough, but audible. They recognised Steele’s voice.

‘Phone her often enough and I promise you it’ll get to her. But if it doesn’t, or you think she deserves worse, you’ve always got her address.’

‘Let’s see what happens,’ Dallas Meikle said.

‘Keep me posted — once she’s riled, I want to know.’

Edwards switched the recording off and slid the phone back into his pocket.

‘Steele always said you were smarter than anyone gave you credit for,’ Rebus commented.

‘Bit of insurance never goes amiss,’ Edwards agreed.

‘You’ve known for a while it might all go belly up?’ Clarke asked.

‘Insurance, like I say.’

‘What did you think,’ Rebus broke in, ‘when Bloom turned up handcuffed?’

‘At first, not much. Then when they turned out to be police issue...’

‘You recalled the pair you’d given to your dealer?’

‘He was Brian’s dealer too — we couldn’t risk buying from Cafferty’s lot. It would have given the big man something he could have used as insurance.’

‘You knew, though, right? When those kids overdosed, you knew who was responsible?’

‘Brian warned Gram to get out of town for a while.’

‘But not too far, eh? So you’d still be assured of a supply?’ Rebus paused. ‘When did it dawn on you the cuffs might have been yours?’

‘Didn’t really make any odds — Gram had dropped off our radar years back.’

‘And when he did a runner, just at the time Stuart Bloom vanished off the face of the earth, you didn’t connect the two?’

‘I can’t speak for Brian.’ Edwards swirled his drink, not raising his eyes from it. ‘So what does it all add up to, everything you’ve got so far?’

‘Enough,’ Clarke stated. ‘I doubt Hazard is going to stop talking.’ She glanced in Rebus’s direction. ‘He’s got too much to lose.’

‘What have you offered him?’

‘Never you mind,’ Rebus said stonily. ‘All that should be concerning you is how much of your own sorry career you can hang on to.’

‘I’ve worked hard for my pension. I’ve got it earmarked for a motorbike dealership.’

‘That’s nice,’ Rebus said, his tone suggesting the exact opposite.

Edwards looked at each of the three of them in turn. ‘What do I have to do to save it?’

It was Fox who answered. ‘Sit in a room with Professional Standards and PIRC and anyone else who needs to hear your story. Don’t hold anything back. Everything needs to come out.’

‘Including Cafferty?’

Rebus leaned forward into the ensuing silence. ‘Talk to me,’ he said.

‘Him and Brian go back a ways. Lot of gen has passed between them, and it’s always been a two-way street.’

Rebus gestured towards Edwards’s pocket. ‘Any of their wee chats feature on that phone of yours?’

‘They might,’ Edwards conceded. ‘All depends whether I’m going to get hit by kid gloves or a knuckleduster.’

‘That won’t be up to us,’ Clarke said.

‘None of this is up to us,’ Edwards spat back. ‘We’re just the ones they send down the sewers with a shovel and bucket and a torch that’s low on juice.’

‘That what you’ve told yourself all these years?’ Rebus said. ‘A fairy tale to help you drift off at night?’

‘I sleep fine, thanks for asking. How about you, Rebus? All the stuff you’ve covered up over the years — and don’t tell me you’ve never traded with your good friend Cafferty.’ Edwards turned to Clarke. ‘And you with your journalist pal — we knew damned well who’d been talking to her...’ He broke off as he saw a quick look pass between Clarke and Fox. ‘Oh,’ he said, drawing the vowel out. ‘Seems we maybe got that one wrong.’

‘Which didn’t stop you setting Dallas Meikle on DI Clarke,’ Rebus snarled.

‘Brian’s idea — I told him it wasn’t one of his best. He was too into it, though.’

‘How come?’

Edwards fixed Rebus with a look. ‘Because we could never get to you. You were Cafferty’s creature.’ He saw that Rebus was about to interrupt. ‘Insofar as Cafferty enjoyed playing with you too much. We’d have spoilt that if we’d taken you down.’ He turned his attention towards Clarke without saying anything.

‘Because you saw me as John’s creature? You couldn’t have him, so you’d have me instead?’

Edwards offered a shrug. ‘That was Brian’s way of thinking.’

‘Maybe he was jealous, no?’ Fox offered. ‘He wanted to be the one Cafferty took an interest in?’

Another shrug from within the overcoat.

‘This all needs to come out,’ Fox went on. ‘I’ll put you in touch with Professional Standards. Best if you go to them — keeping us out of it.’ He waited until Edwards had nodded.

‘Then we’re just about done here,’ Rebus stated. He gestured towards the whisky glass. ‘But not before I get you a refill.’

As he returned from the bar, he had to squeeze past Fox and Clarke, who were already on their way. ‘Catch you up in a second,’ he said.

Edwards sat ruefully at the vacated table, draining his drink. Rebus placed the fresh one in front of him. But as Edwards reached for it, Rebus grabbed him by the wrist. Edwards was strong, but Rebus was on his feet, which helped give him more purchase over the seated figure.

Plus, no point denying it, his dander was up.

By the time Edwards did rise from his chair, his wrist was already held to the table leg by the handcuffs.

‘Same ones you used on me,’ Rebus said, backing away until he was out of range. Edwards had upended the table, the glasses flying. He studied the table leg and saw that it was connected to the others by a crosspiece. He couldn’t release himself by simply sliding the cuff down the length of the leg.

‘Seem to have lost the key,’ Rebus said with a shrug of his own, turning to leave.

Clarke and Fox were waiting for him outside. They began to walk along Young Street, towards North Castle Street where they’d parked their cars.

‘Is Edwards going to get off with this?’ Clarke asked.

‘Ever hear the story of Burke and Hare?’ Rebus answered, breathing heavily.

‘Killers who sold their victims to medical people for use in dissections,’ Fox stated.

Rebus nodded. ‘Hare turned king’s evidence — grassed his compadre up, in other words. He was let go, which sounds outrageous but apparently that was the deal. Didn’t help him much — he fled south but was recognised. Someone blinded him and left him like that. Ended his days begging.’ Having reached his Saab, Rebus paused. ‘Nobody ever quite gets away with it.’

‘Not even Billie Meikle?’ Clarke asked.

‘I suppose there may be exceptions,’ Rebus conceded. ‘Though even then, I’m not sure. Doesn’t mean you should feel guilty about any of it.’

‘I doubt that’ll stop me,’ she replied, shoulders hunched, head down as she headed to her own car.

Edwards was still wrestling with the table when he spotted a figure in the doorway.

‘A bit of help here,’ he said.

‘Well, well.’

Edwards froze momentarily as Brian Steele walked in. Steele had his hands in his pockets but removed them as he bent at the knees, the better to study his colleague’s predicament.

‘You go shooting your mouth off and this is the thanks you get, eh?’ He shook his head in mock sympathy.

‘Fuck you, Brian. Just give me a hand here.’

‘Here it is, Grant.’

The slap was like whiplash. Edwards tried lunging at Steele, but the table prevented it. Instead, Steele got him in a headlock, his forearm pressing hard on his partner’s throat. Edwards made a choking sound, eyes bulging, teeth gritted.

‘Been watching you for a while, lad,’ Steele hissed into his ear. ‘Wondering if and when you’d crack. Seems I have my answer.’

Edwards’s free hand clamped itself around Steele’s fingers and prised at one of them, bending it back until it threatened to snap. Steele gasped in pain, the pressure lessening on Edwards’s larynx. Edwards wrestled himself free and stamped hard on the table’s wooden crosspiece, snapping it and freeing the handcuffs. He turned towards Steele just as the punch connected, catching him square on the nose. Blood began to flow, his eyes filling with tears. Blindly he threw his whole weight at Steele, the two of them colliding with one of the other tables. Edwards had his hands around his old friend’s throat as the few regulars from the front bar finally plucked up the nerve to intervene. There were just enough of them to wrestle the two men apart. When Steele tried throwing another punch, he found himself restrained by the bar staff. Snarling and spitting, he was manoeuvred out of the room, down the steps and into the night.

The barman pointed at Edwards. ‘Take it outside if you want,’ he said, ‘but first you’re paying for the damage.’

‘It was Rebus did this,’ Edwards roared, shaking the handcuff in the barman’s face. ‘Get him to pay!’

‘If that’s the way you want it.’ The barman took out his phone. ‘We’ll let the police handle it.’

‘I am the police!’ Edwards went quiet as he got his breathing under control. ‘I am the police,’ he repeated quietly, though with a little less certainty than before.

59

Back home, Rebus fed Brillo and took him out to the Meadows for a run. He looked across the expanse of grass towards Quartermile. He knew which windows belonged to Cafferty’s duplex. One of them had its lights on. He took out his phone and made the call.

‘You have reached the Samaritans,’ Cafferty growled. ‘How can we help you tonight?’

‘I think you might be about to lose your friendly face at ACU.’

Silence on the line for a moment. Then: ‘Plenty more where that came from.’

‘Maybe so, but not many you’ll have nurtured for so many years.’

‘Well, thanks for the warning. I’m guessing there’s a favour you want in return.’

Rebus watched Brillo, wishing he had even a fraction of the dog’s energy. ‘What can you tell me about the break-in at Brand’s office?’

‘It was a set-up,’ Cafferty explained. ‘The paperwork was fake, the intention being to wrong-foot Ness if he ever got hold of it.’

‘And you know this because...?’

‘Stuart Bloom made a note to that effect. Didn’t even bother showing any of it to Ness. He knew as soon as he read through it.’

‘You broke into his flat?’

‘In point of fact, a nurtured and friendly face did that for me.’

Steele...

‘And afterwards?’

‘When Bloom disappeared, I ditched everything.’

‘You must have been gutted the papers didn’t give you the leverage you wanted with Conor Maloney.’

‘Water under the bridge, John.’ Cafferty paused to sip from a glass, making sure Rebus could hear him. He gave a noisy exhalation. ‘I hear Siobhan got someone for Bloom’s murder, though.’

‘That dealer, the one who used to be Graeme Hatch. Reinvented himself as Glenn Hazard.’

‘The PR guy?’

‘Bloom was threatening to hand him over to you.’

‘Really?’

‘I’m guessing it’ll come out at the trial.’

‘All of it?’

‘Maybe not quite all,’ Rebus conceded. Brillo had started barking at another dog. Rebus told him to sit, then clipped the lead back on to his collar.

‘You’re at the Meadows with your mutt? I can’t quite see you.’

Rebus turned to peer at the lit window. ‘I can see you, though, clear as day.’

‘Pop by for a drink. Wine’s supposed to be good for the blood pressure.’

‘Maybe so, but I doubt you’d be good for mine.’

‘Remember to congratulate Siobhan for me, John. And don’t be a stranger.’

‘One last thing...’

‘Yes?’

‘Steele and Edwards, they knew Graeme Hatch back in the day. All the time you were looking for him, they protected him so they could keep buying what he was selling.’

Silence on the line while Cafferty digested this. Then he made a snuffling sound. ‘I hope you’re not just spinning me a line.’

‘I’m not.’

‘In which case, I might have to have words with them.’

‘I wouldn’t put it off. They’ll be in custody before too long. Fair warning, though — I want to hang on to Edwards.’

Rebus ended the call and watched the silhouette retreat from the penthouse window. Brillo was straining at the leash.

‘Time to go home, son,’ Rebus told him.

The call came at 3 a.m. Number withheld. When Cafferty lifted the phone, he noticed that there was a text on the second phone lying next to it. It was from the lovely Rebecca. He had messaged her earlier, advising her to dump Brian Steele before the shit storm arrived. Her reply consisted of a heart and a thumbs-up. Cafferty allowed himself a thin smile as he answered the call.

‘What’s so fucking urgent?’ Conor Maloney snarled.

‘Bit of news to report — they got Stuart Bloom’s killer. It was the dealer who sold the bad stuff to those kids.’

‘Oh aye? So it wasn’t me, then?’

‘And the dealer definitely didn’t work for me. So...’

‘Truce?’

‘We’ve maligned and mistrusted one another for far too long. Time we got out the pipe of peace, don’t you think?’

‘Depends what’s in it for each of us.’

‘Plenty of opportunities, Conor. Brexit’s going to be a gold mine for disaster capitalists.’

‘Is that what we are?’

‘I imagine you’ve been eyeing up the dotted line between south and north, wondering what a hard Irish border might mean.’

‘Where did you hear that?’

‘An educated guess. I was able to make it because you and me think the same way. Seems that everywhere people are burning bridges or building walls. I want the opposite to happen with us.’

‘I suppose we could bounce a few ideas around.’

‘Not on the phone, though. I can come to you or you can come to me. Some pretty nice hotels in Scotland — even if I don’t own any of them yet.’

‘Eyeball to eyeball, eh?’

Cafferty had picked up the other phone. The screen still showed Rebecca’s message. ‘Sometimes,’ he said softly, ‘the old ways are the best.’