`What was his name again, the dead one?’
'Matsumoto.’
`Is that Japanese?’
Rebus wished he could see Cafferty's eyes. Even then, it was hard to tell when the man was playing games.
`He was Japanese,' Rebus stated.
`What the hell did he have to do with Telford?’
`Sounds to me like your intelligence has gone to pot.’
There was silence on the line. `About your daughter…’
Rebus froze. `What about her?’
`A secondhand shop in Porty.’
Meaning Portobello. `The owner bought some stuff from a seller. Including opera tapes and Roy Orbison. Stuck in his mind. They don't naturally go together.’
Rebus's hand tightened on the receiver. `Which shop? What did the seller look like?’
Cold laughter. `We're working on it, Strawman, just leave everything to us. Now, about this Japanese fellow…?’
'I said I'd put Telford out of the game. That was the agreement.’
`I've yet to see any action.’
`I'm working on it!'
`I want to hear about him anyway.’
Rebus paused.
`How is Samantha anyway?’ Cafferty asked. `That's her name, isn't it?’
`She's…’
`Because it looks like I'll be fulfilling my side of our bargain any day. While you, on the other hand…’
'Matsumoto was Yakuza: heard of them?’
A moment's silence. `I've heard of them.’
`Telford's helping them buy a country club.’
`What in God's name do they want with that?’
`I'm not sure.’
Cafferty was silent again. Rebus almost thought his mobile had died. Then: `He's got big ideas, hasn't he?’
Like there was just a touch of respect there, battling the sense of territorial breach.
`We've both seen people overreach themselves.’
An idea formed in Rebus's mind, a sudden notion of where everything was headed.
`Looks like Telford's got plenty of stretch left in him though,' Cafferty was saying. `And me, I'm not even halfway through my stretch.’
`Know something, Cafferty? Every time you start to sound beaten, that's when I know you're just coming to the boil.’
`You know I'm going to have to retaliate, whether I want to or not. A little ritual we have to go through, like shaking hands.’
`How many men have you got?’
`More than enough.’
`Listen, one last thing…’
Rebus couldn't believe he was telling his arch-enemy this. `Jake Tarawicz arrived here today. I think the fireworks were meant to impress him.’
`Telford torched my house just so he'd have something to show that ugly Russian bastard?’
Like a kid showing off to his elders, Rebus was thinking. Overreaching himself…
`That's it, Strawman!' Cafferty was back to being furious. `All bets are off. Those two want to get dirty with Morris Gerald Cafferty, I'll give them both anthrax. I'll infect the pair of them. They'll think they've caught full-blown fucking AIDS by the time I'm finished!' Which was about as much as Rebus could take. He put down the phone, drank his cold coffee, checked his messages. Patience wondered if he could make it to supper. Rhona said they'd carried out another scan. Bobby Hogan wanted a word.
He called the hospital first. Rhona said something about a new scan to assess the amount of damage done to the brain.
`Then why the hell didn't they give her that scan straight away?’
`I don't know.’
`Did you ask?’
`Why don't you come down here? Why don't you ask? Seems like when I'm not here, you're happy enough spending time with Samantha, even sleeping in the chair. What is it – do I scare you off?’
`Look, Rhona, I'm sorry. It's been a rough day.’
`For you and everyone else.’
`I know. I'm a selfish bastard.’
The rest of their conversation was predictable. It was a relief to say goodbye. He tried Patience, got her answering machine, and told it he'd be happy to accept the invitation. Then he called Bobby Hogan.
`Hiya, Bobby, what've you got?’
`Not much. I had a word with Telford.’
`I know, he told me.’
`You've been speaking to him?’
`Says he never knew Lintz. Did you talk to The Family?’
`The ones who frequent the office. Same story.’
`Did you mention the five thou'?’
'Think I'm stupid? Listen, I thought you might be able to help me.’
`Fire away.’
'Lintz's address book, I found a couple of addresses for a Dr Colquhoun. Thought at first it must be his GP.’
`He's a Slavic Studies lecturer.’
`Only Lintz seems to have been keeping track of him. Three changes of address, going back twenty years. First two addresses have phone numbers with them, but not the most recent. I checked, and Colquhoun's only been at this latest address three years.’
`So?’
`So Lintz didn't have his home phone number. So if he wanted to speak to him…’
Rebus twigged. `He'd phone the university.’
The call on Lintz's bilclass="underline" twenty-odd minutes. Rebus was remembering what Colquhoun had said about Lintz.
I met him at a few social functions… our departments weren't that close… As I say, me weren't close…
`They weren't in the same department,' Rebus said. 'Colquhoun told me they'd barely met…’
`So how come Lintz has been keeping up with Colquhoun's various moves around the city?’
`Beats me, Bobby. Have you asked him?’
`No, but I intend to.’
`He's lying low. I've been trying to talk to him for a week.’
Last seen at the Morvena: did Colquhoun link Telford to Lintz? `Well, he's back now.’
`What?’
`I've an appointment with him at his office.’
`Count me in,' Rebus said, getting to his feet.
As Rebus parked in Buccleuch Place – he was in an unmarked Astra, courtesy of St Leonard's – he saw the car in the neighbouring bay make to leave. He waved, but Kirstin Mede didn't see him, and by the time he'd found the horn, she'd pulled away. He wondered how well she knew Colquhoun. After all, she'd been the one to suggest him as a translator…
Hogan, standing by the railings, had seen Rebus's attempts at communication.
`Someone you know?’
'Kirstin Mede.’
Hogan placed the name. `The one who did those translations?’
Rebus looked up at the Slavic Studies building. `Have you tracked down David Levy?’
`Daughter still hasn't heard from him.’
`How long has that been?’
`Long enough to seem suspicious in itself, only she doesn't seem too bothered.’
`How do you want to play this?’
Rebus asked.
`Depends what he's like.’
`You ask your questions. Me, I just want to be there.’
Hogan looked at him, then shrugged and pushed open the door. They started to climb the worn stone steps. `Hope they haven't put him in the penthouse.’
Colquhoun's name was on a piece of card stuck to a door on the second floor. They pushed it open, and were confronted with a short hallway and another five or six doors. Colquhoun's office was first on the right, and he was already standing in the doorway.
`Thought I heard you. Sound carries in this place. Come in, come in.’
He wasn't expecting Hogan to have company. His words dried up when he saw Rebus. He walked back into his office, motioned for both officers to sit, then fussed about moving their chairs around so they'd be facing his desk.
`Terrible muddle,' he said, kicking over a pile of books.
`Know the feeling, sir,' Hogan said.
Colquhoun peered in Rebus's direction. `My secretary says you used the library.’
`Filling in some of the gaps, sir.’
Rebus kept his voice level.
`Yes, Candice…’
Colquhoun was thoughtful. `Is she…? I mean, did she…?’
`But today, sir,' Hogan interrupted, `we want to talk to you about Joseph Lintz.’
Colquhoun sat down heavily in his wooden chair, which creaked under the weight. Then he sprang to his feet again. `Tea, coffee? You must excuse the mess. Not normally this disorganised…’