Ancram signalled for Jack to turn off the machine. Then he sat back down.
‘Yes,’ he said quietly.
‘I can see that it happens.’ Rebus kept his voice level. ‘But I don’t want you getting sole credit. If it’s anyone’s, the collar belongs to CI Templer.’ Rebus went back to his chair, propped himself on the edge of it. ‘Now I have a couple of questions.’
‘Was there a phone call?’ Ancram asked, surprising Rebus. They stared at one another. ‘Tape’s off, this is between the three of us. Was there ever a phone call?’
‘I answer yours and you answer mine?’ Ancram nodded. ‘Of course there was a phone call.’
Ancram almost smiled. ‘You liar. He came to your house, didn’t he? What did he tell you? Did he say you wouldn’t need a search warrant? You must’ve known he was lying.’
‘He was a good cop.’
‘Every time you come out with that line, it sounds thinner. What’s the matter: stopped finding it convincing?’
‘He was.’
‘But he had a problem, a little personal demon called Lenny Spaven. You were his friend, Rebus, you should have stopped him.’
‘Stopped him?’
Ancram nodded, eyes gleaming like moons. ‘You should have helped him.’
‘I tried,’ Rebus said, his voice a whisper. It was another lie: Lawson by that time had been a junkie with a craving, and only one thing would help — the taste itself.
Ancram sat back, trying not to look satisfied. He thought Rebus was cracking. The inner doubts had been sown — not for the first time. Ancram could now water them with sympathy.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I’m not blaming you. I think I know what you were going through. But there was a cover-up. There was that one central lie: the tip-off.’ He lifted his notes an inch off the desk. ‘It’s written all over these, and it throws everything else into the pot, because if Geddes had been following Spaven, what was to stop him planting a little evidence along the way?’
‘It wasn’t his style.’
‘Not even when pushed to the limit? Had you seen him there before?’
Rebus couldn’t think of a thing to say. Ancram had been leaning forward in his seat again, palms against the desk. He sat back. ‘What did you want to ask?’
When Rebus was a child, they’d lived in a semi-detached with a close separating it from the next house along. The close had led to both back gardens. Rebus played football there with his dad. Sometimes he placed a foot against either wall and pushed his way up towards the roof of the close. And sometimes he’d just stand in the middle and throw a small hard rubber ball as hard as he could against the stone floor. The ball would bounce like anything, zipping back and forth, floor to roof to wall to floor to roof...
His head felt like that now.
‘What?’ he said.
‘You said you had a couple of questions.’
Slowly, Rebus’s head came back to the here and now. He rubbed his eyes. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘First off, Eve and Stanley.’
‘What about them?’
‘Are they close?’
‘You mean how do they get on? All right.’
‘Just all right?’
‘No flare-ups to report.’
‘I was thinking more of jealousy.’
Ancram cottoned on. ‘Uncle Joe and Stanley?’
Rebus nodded. ‘Is she clever enough to play one off against the other?’ He’d met her, thought he already knew the answer. Ancram just shrugged. The conversation had obviously taken an unexpected turn.
‘Only,’ Rebus said, ‘in Aberdeen they were sharing a hotel room.’
Ancram narrowed his eyes. ‘You’re sure of this?’ Rebus nodded. ‘They must be mad. Uncle Joe’ll kill them both.’
‘Maybe they don’t think he can.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Maybe they think they’re stronger than him. Maybe they reckon in a war the muscle-men would change sides. Stanley’s the one people are scared of these days, you said as much yourself. Especially with Tony El gone.’
‘Tony was history anyway.’
‘I’m not so sure.’
‘Explain.’
Rebus shook his head. ‘I need to talk to a couple of people first. Have you heard of Eve and Stanley working together in the past?’
‘No.’
‘So this Aberdeen jaunt...?’
‘I’d say it’s a newish excursion.’
‘Hotel records say the past six months.’
‘So the question is, what’s Uncle Joe setting up?’
Rebus smiled. ‘I think you know the answer to that: drugs. He’s lost the market in Glasgow, it’s already been divvied up. So he can fight for a piece, or he can play away from home. Burke’s will take the stuff and sell it on, especially with someone from CID in their pocket. Aberdeen’s still a nice market, not the hotbed of fifteen or twenty years ago, but a market nonetheless.’
‘So tell me, what are you going to do that the rest of us can’t?’
Rebus shook his head. ‘I still don’t know if you’re on the level; I mean, you might be see-sawing.’
This time Ancram really did smile. ‘I could say the same about you and the Spaven case.’
‘Probably.’
‘I won’t be satisfied until I know. I think maybe that makes us similar.’
‘Look, Ancram, we walked into that lock-up and the bag was there. Does it matter how we came to be there?’
‘It could have been planted.’
‘Not with my knowledge.’
‘Geddes never confided? I thought the two of you were close?’
Rebus was on his feet. ‘I may not be around for a day or two. All right?’
‘No, it’s not all right. I’ll expect you here tomorrow, same time.’
‘For Christ’s sake...’
‘Or we can turn the machine back on right now and you can tell me what you know. That way, you’ll have all the time in the world. And I think you’ll find it easier to live with yourself, too.’
‘Living with myself has never been the problem. Breathing the same air as people like you — that’s my problem.’
‘I’ve already told you, Strathclyde Police and the Squaddies are planning an operation...’
‘One that’ll get nowhere, because for all we know half the Glasgow force is in Uncle Joe’s pocket.’
‘I’m not the one who goes visiting him at home, with a word put in by a certain Morris Cafferty.’
There was a sudden tightening around Rebus’s chest. Coronary, he thought. But it was only Jack Morton, arms holding him, stopping him moving in on Ancram.
‘Tomorrow morning, gentlemen,’ Ancram said, like they’d had a useful session.
‘Yes, sir,’ Jack said, hustling Rebus out of the room.
Rebus told his friend to get them on to the M8.
‘No way, José.’
‘Then park near Waverley, we’ll take the train.’
Jack didn’t like the way Rebus looked: like his wiring was shorting out. You could almost see the sparks behind his eyes.
‘What are you going to do in Glasgow? Walk up to Uncle Joe and say, “Oh, by the way, your woman’s shagging your son”? Even you can’t be that stupid.’
‘Of course I’m not that stupid.’
‘Glasgow, John,’ Jack pleaded. ‘It’s not our territory. I’ll be back in Falkirk in a few weeks, and you...’