‘I’ve told them precisely nothing they didn’t already know. For example, I’ve not mentioned your little jaunt playing bodyguard to Big Ger Cafferty.’
‘I wasn’t sure you knew about that. It was in my own time, if that matters at all.’
‘Well remunerated, I’m sure. And he wanted you for your unique talents, I dare say, rather than so he could pump you for any gossip on Adrian Brand.’
‘Mr Brand’s name never came up.’
‘But that’s how he knew about you in the first place, the Brand connection?’
‘None of this has anything to do with the Bloom case. I might as easily ask you about Cafferty; the two of you were pretty snug for a while. In fact, I hear you still see him, despite him never being far from Serious Crime’s attention.’ Steele turned his head to look at Rebus. ‘You wouldn’t have loaned him a pair of handcuffs, would you?’
‘I was CID at the time, Brian; handcuffs were mostly used by uniforms, which is what both of you were.’ Rebus watched as Steele reached into the glove box, pulling out a pair of old-fashioned metal cuffs.
‘Still come in useful,’ Steele said, trying to pass them to Rebus. Rebus kept his hands by his sides, and Steele laughed. ‘You’re scared I want your prints on them — we’ve gone from Mafia flick to conspiracy thriller. In fact, you might well have a point there — doesn’t it strike you as a bit OTT? Not just the cuffs, but putting them round the ankles? It’s like we’re all supposed to take route one to the goal mouth — cops did it, and cops will take the fall. Me and Grant here, you and your boss Bill Rawlston. Not to mention Skelton, Newsome and the rest.
‘But here’s the thing, John.’ He stubbed out his cigarette and twisted further in his seat so he was facing Rebus as directly as possible without doing himself an injury. ‘Me and Grant, we always had that reputation, didn’t we? Sailing a bit close to the wind. Skelton and Newsome were inept but not really players. Rawlston was lazy, just wanted a result he knew he wasn’t going to get. As the weeks passed, it was all the same old ground being covered again. But you, John, well, you had a bit of a reputation, too. You’d worked some dirty cases, in Edinburgh and Glasgow both. That’s how you got friendly with DI Alex Shankley, the father who didn’t exactly agree with his son’s sexuality, and wasn’t keen on that son’s partner being a private eye. All kinds of tensions there that were never explored because you kept putting up the barricades, all for the sake of your pal in Glasgow.’ Steele paused. ‘The same pal who probably kept you in the loop when Cafferty had that meeting with Conor Maloney. Think any of that’ll stay unmentioned this time round? Think those tip-offs about raids on Rogues won’t piss off your old comrades when they learn they came from you? Me and Grant here were on one or two of those raids, you know. You were setting us up to fall on our arses.’
‘Is this ACU I’m talking to, or just two bent cops?’
‘All I’m saying is, none of us has anything to gain by any of this getting out. I fully expect that Grant and me will end up at MIT, telling our side of the story. There are things we could tell, if we felt it was going badly for us. There’d maybe be a few good names and pensions lost along the way, even a prosecution or two. All those reports Newsome typed up of interviews that didn’t actually happen... We might even find out who it was Mary Skelton was shagging. She died, by the way, three years back. You and her were pretty close, weren’t you?’
‘Not nearly close enough for an affair.’
‘Maybe just a one-nighter, eh?’ Steele returned to his original position, eyes on the rear-view. ‘Then there’s our old boss Rawlston — I hear he’s not keeping well. Last thing he needs is to have all this dragged up again.’
‘He’s already been interviewed.’
‘Doesn’t mean they won’t want to talk to him again. All those mistakes he presided over, all those cops under him who weren’t doing their jobs.’ Steele paused once more. ‘I’ve always been the observant type. Grant, too. People underestimate him because he doesn’t say much, but he sees and hears plenty.’
Rebus watched Edwards nod his agreement.
‘We’ve worked our way up, John,’ Steele went on. ‘Took a long time to get to ACU. Not too many more years and we’ll be getting those pensions and heading off elsewhere. That’s something we’ll do our utmost to protect. Seems to me everyone who worked the case has something they want to keep safe or hidden. So tell me something, John — and I promise it won’t go further than this car.’
‘What?’
‘Did you help Alex Shankley kill his son’s boyfriend, or was it all his own work?’
‘You’ll have to do better than that, Steele.’ Rebus pushed open the rear door and stepped out, leaning back into the car again. ‘The most likely candidates haven’t changed. I suspected it then and I’m thinking it now. In fact, I’m looking right at them.’
He slammed the door closed and stalked back to his Saab. He had almost reached it when he heard footsteps behind him. Edwards spun him round, slamming him into the Saab’s bodywork, holding him there by his lapels while Steele took his own sweet time arriving. Rebus tried wrestling his way free, but the smiling grizzly was always going to win that bout. When he tried bringing his knee up into Edwards’s groin, Edwards was prepared, twisting so Rebus connected with his upper thigh, then pressing his bulk harder against Rebus, until breathing became difficult. The driver of the articulated lorry leaned out of his window and called across to them; Steele brandished his warrant card and waved away the complaint. Something was hanging from his other hand. The handcuffs, Rebus realised. One of them snapped around his left wrist.
‘No...’ he started to say, but too late. The other had been attached to the Saab’s door handle.
‘It’s easy to hang on to old sets of cuffs,’ Steele said. ‘Problem is, the key’s so fucking small you end up losing it.’ His mouth was close to Rebus’s left ear. ‘You and your lot never had any time for us, back when we were in uniform. I heard the things you said, saw the gestures you made when you thought our backs were turned. I’ve never forgotten that. Never...’
Flecks of spittle hit Rebus’s ear. Steele’s leather heels ground against the asphalt as he turned and began to walk back to the Audi, Edwards following with a smirk. Rebus aimed a kick at his retreating leg but missed, swiping at air. He watched as the Audi headed off slowly in the direction of the carriageway. Waited a few minutes, in case it returned. Studied the ground, but Steele hadn’t left the key there. The lorry driver was leaving too, without so much as a look in Rebus’s direction. The metal was cutting into Rebus’s wrist. He tried squeezing but was never going to spring himself that way. Instead, he lifted his phone from his pocket and eventually found the number he needed. Pressed the phone to his ear and listened as it was answered.
‘Alex,’ he said, ‘I need a bit of a favour...’
After Alex Shankley had freed him, the two men headed into the cafeteria, bought a pot of tea and a couple of caramel wafers and found a table by the window.
‘Lucky the key fitted,’ Shankley said.
‘Don’t you remember? Same key fitted most models.’ Rebus rubbed at his reddened wrist. He had pocketed the cuffs.
‘Why did they do it?’
‘Steele and Edwards?’ Rebus shook his head. ‘You don’t want to know.’
‘Maybe I do, though. Is it tied to Stuart Bloom?’
‘Sort of. Have you heard anything about the body?’
‘Such as?’
‘The ankles?’ Rebus watched Shankley nod.