‘Won’t take long,’ Rebus assured him.
‘What is it you want me to see?’
‘That would spoil the surprise. Do you have a car?’ Rebus watched Storey nod. ‘Then you can follow me.’
‘Follow you where?’
‘Got any trunks with you?’
‘Trunks?’ Storey’s eyebrows furrowed.
‘Never mind,’ Rebus said. ‘We’ll just have to improvise...’
Rebus drove carefully, keeping an eye on the headlights in his rearview. Improvisation, he couldn’t help thinking, was at the heart of everything he was about to do. Halfway, he called Storey on his mobile, told him they were nearly there.
‘This better be worth it,’ came the tetchy reply.
‘I promise,’ Rebus said. The city outskirts first: bungalows fronting the route, housing schemes hidden behind them. It was the bungalows visitors would see, Rebus realised, and they’d think what a nice, upright place Edinburgh was. The reality was waiting somewhere else, just out of their eye-line.
Waiting to pounce.
There wasn’t much traffic about: they were skirting the southern edge of the city. Morningside was the first real clue that Edinburgh might have some night life: bars and takeaways, supermarkets and students. Rebus signalled left, checking in his mirror that Storey did the same. When his mobile sounded, he knew it would be Storey: irritated further and wondering how much longer.
‘We’re here,’ Rebus muttered under his breath. He pulled into the kerb, Storey following suit. The Immigration man was first out of his car.
‘Time to stop with the games,’ he said.
‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Rebus answered, turning away. They were on a leafy suburban street, large houses silhouetted against the sky. Rebus pushed open a gate, knowing Storey would follow. Instead of trying the bell, Rebus headed for the driveway, walking purposefully now.
The jacuzzi was still there, its cover removed once more, steam billowing from it.
Big Ger Cafferty in the water, arms stretched out along its sides. Opera music on the sound system.
‘You sit in that thing all day?’ Rebus asked.
‘Rebus,’ Cafferty drawled. ‘And you’ve brought your boyfriend: how touching.’ He ran a hand over his matted chest-hair.
‘I’m forgetting,’ Rebus said, ‘the two of you have never actually met in person, have you? Felix Storey, meet Morris Gerald Cafferty.’
Rebus was studying Storey’s reaction. The Londoner slid his hands into his pockets. ‘Okay,’ he said, ‘what’s going on here?’
‘Nothing.’ Rebus paused. ‘I just thought you might want to put a face to the voice.’
‘What?’
Rebus didn’t bother answering straight away. He was staring up at the room above the garage. ‘No Joe tonight, Cafferty?’
‘He gets the odd night off, when I don’t think I’ll be needing him.’
‘Number of enemies you’ve made, I wouldn’t have thought you ever felt safe.’
‘We all need a bit of risk from time to time.’ Cafferty had busied himself with the control panel, turning off jets and music both. But the light was still active, still changing colour every ten or fifteen seconds.
‘Look, am I being fitted up here?’ Storey asked. Rebus ignored him. His eyes were on Cafferty.
‘You bear a grudge a long time, I’ll give you that. When was it you fell out with Rab Bullen? Fifteen... twenty years ago? But that grudge gets passed down the generations, eh, Cafferty?’
‘I’ve nothing against Stu,’ Cafferty growled.
‘Wouldn’t say no to a bit of his action though, eh?’ Rebus paused to light a cigarette. ‘Nicely played, too.’ He blew smoke into the night sky, where it merged with the steam.
‘I don’t want any of this,’ Felix Storey said. He made as if to turn and leave. Rebus let him, betting he wouldn’t carry through. After a few paces, Storey stopped and turned, then retraced his steps.
‘Say what you want to say,’ he challenged.
Rebus examined the tip of his cigarette. ‘Cafferty here is your “Deep Throat”, Felix. Cafferty knew what was going on because he had a man on the inside — Barney Grant, Bullen’s lieutenant. Barney feeding info to Cafferty, Cafferty passing it along to you. In return for which, Grant would get Bullen’s empire handed to him on a plate.’
‘What does it matter?’ Storey asked, brow furrowing. ‘Even if it was your friend Cafferty here...’
‘Not my friend, Felix — yours. But the thing is, Cafferty wasn’t just passing you information... He came up with the passports... Barney Grant planted them in the safe, probably while we were chasing Bullen down that tunnel. Bullen would take the fall and all would be well. Thing was, how did Cafferty get the passports?’ Rebus looked at both men and shrugged. ‘Easy enough if it’s Cafferty who’s smuggling the immigrants into the UK.’ His gaze had rested on Cafferty, whose eyes seemed smaller, blacker than ever. Whose entire rounded face glistened with malice. Rebus gave another theatrical shrug. ‘Cafferty, not Bullen. Cafferty feeding Bullen to you, Felix, so he could bag all that business for himself...’
‘And the beauty is,’ Cafferty drawled, ‘there’s no proof, and absolutely nothing you can do about it.’
‘I know,’ Rebus said.
‘Then what’s the point of saying it?’ Storey snarled.
‘Listen and you’ll learn,’ Rebus told him.
Cafferty was smiling. ‘With Rebus, there’s always a point,’ he conceded.
Rebus flicked ash into the tub, which put a sudden stop to the smile. ‘Cafferty is the one who knows London... he has contacts there. Not Stuart Bullen. Remember that photo of you, Cafferty? There you were, with your London “associates”. Even Felix here let slip that there’s a London connection involved in all of this. Bullen didn’t have the muscle — or anything else — to put together something as meticulous as people-smuggling. He’s the fall guy, so things ease up for a while. Thing is, putting Bullen in the frame becomes a whole lot easier if someone else is on board — someone like you, Felix. An Immigration officer with an eye for an easy score. You crack the case, it means a big fillip. Bullen’s the only one who’s being shafted. Far as you’re concerned, he’s scum anyway. You’re not going to worry about who’s behind the shafting or what might be in it for them. But here’s the thing — all the glory you’re going to get, it adds up to the cube of bugger-all, because what you’ve done is smoothed Cafferty’s path. It’ll be him in charge from now on, not only bringing illegals into the country, but working them to death too.’ Rebus paused. ‘So thanks for that.’
This is bullshit,’ Storey spat.
‘I don’t think so,’ Rebus said. ‘To me, it makes perfect sense... it’s the only thing that does.’
‘But like you said,’ Cafferty interrupted, ‘you can’t make any of it stick.’
‘That’s true,’ Rebus admitted. ‘I just wanted to let Felix here know who he’d really been working for all this time.’ He flicked the rest of his cigarette on to the lawn.
Storey lunged at him, teeth bared. Rebus dodged the move, grabbing him in a chokehold around the neck, forcing his head into the water. Storey was maybe an inch taller... younger and fitter. But he didn’t have Rebus’s heft, his arms flailing, uncertain whether to search for purchase on the side of the tub, or try to unlock Rebus’s grip.
Cafferty sat in his corner of the pool, watching the action as if he were ringside.
‘You haven’t won,’ Rebus hissed.
‘From where I’m sitting, I’d say you’re wrong.’
Rebus realised that Storey’s resistance was lessening. He released his grip and took a few steps back, out of range of the Londoner. Storey fell to his knees, spluttering. But he was soon up again, advancing on Rebus.