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.’