Ian Rankin - Black and Blue

Tony El a shooter. It didn’t mean he wasn’t killed. All it meant was, maybe he’d made Stanley’s job easier. Tony El sky-high easier to murder than Tony El with defences up. Drugs to Aberdeen... Burke’s Club a magnet for them... Tony El using — and selling? He wished he’d asked Erik Stemmons about Tony El.

‘I need the toilet,’ Shankley said.

‘We’ll get a uniform to take you. Stay here.’ Rebus and Morton left the room.

‘Jack, I want you to trust me.’

‘How far?’

‘I want you to stay here and take Shankley’s statement.’

‘While you do what?’

‘Take someone to lunch.’ Rebus checked his watch. ‘I’ll be back here by three.’

‘Look, John...’

‘Call it parole. I go to lunch, I come back. Two hours.’ Rebus held up two fingers. ‘Two hours, Jack.’

‘Which restaurant?’

‘What?’

‘Tell me where you’re going. I’ll phone every quarter of an hour, you better be there.’ Rebus looked disgusted. ‘And I want to know who your guest is.’

‘It’s a woman.’

‘Name?’

Rebus sighed. ‘I’ve heard of driving a hard bargain, but you’ve got your HGV.’

‘Name?’ Jack was smiling.

‘Gill Templer. Chief Inspector Gill Templer. OK?’

‘OK. Now the restaurant.’

‘I don’t know. I’ll tell you when I get there.’

‘Phone me. If you don’t, Chick gets to know, OK?’

‘It’s back to “Chick”, is it?’

‘He gets to know.’

‘All right, I’ll phone.’

‘With the restaurant’s number?’

‘With the number. Know what, Jack? You’ve put me right off eating.’

‘Order plenty and bring me a doggie bag.’

Rebus went in search of Gill, found her in her office. She told him she’d already eaten.

‘So come and watch me.’

‘An offer I can’t refuse.’

There was an Italian restaurant on Clerk Street. Rebus ordered a pizza: he could take anything he couldn’t eat back to Jack. Then he phoned St Leonard’s and left the pizzeria’s number, told them to pass it on.

‘So,’ Gill said when he was seated again, ‘been busy?’

‘Plenty busy. I went to Aberdeen.’

‘What for?’

‘That phone number on Feardie Fergie’s pad. Plus a few other things.’

‘What other things?’

‘Not necessarily connected.’

‘Tell me, did the trip pass without incident?’ She picked up a piece of the garlic bread which had just arrived.

‘Not exactly.’

‘You surprise me.’

‘They say it keeps a relationship on its toes.’

Gill took a bite of bread. ‘So what did you find out?’

‘Burke’s Club is dirty. It’s also where Johnny Bible’s first victim was last seen alive. The place is run by two Yanks; I only spoke with one of them. I think probably his partner’s the grubbier of the two.’

‘And?’

‘And, also in Burke’s I saw a couple of members of a Glaswegian crime family. You know Uncle Joe Toal?’

‘I’ve heard of him.’

‘I think he’s delivering dope to Aberdeen. From there, I’d guess some of it goes to the rigs — a captive market; a lot of boredom on a rig.’

‘You’d know, of course?’ she joked. Then she saw the look on his face, and her eyes narrowed. ‘You went on a rig?’

‘Most terrifying experience of my life, but cathartic with it.’

‘Cathartic?’

‘An old girlfriend used to use words like that; they rub off on you after a while. The club’s owner, Erik Stemmons, denied knowing Fergie McLure. I almost believe him.’

‘Which puts his partner in the frame?’

‘To my mind.’

‘And that’s as far as it’s got — your mind? I mean, there’s no evidence?’

‘Not a shred.’

His pizza arrived. Chorizo, mushroom and anchovy. Gill had to look away. The pizza was pre-cut into six fat slices. Rebus lifted one on to his plate.

‘I don’t know how you can face that.’

‘Me neither,’ said Rebus, sniffing the surface. ‘But it’ll make a hell of a doggie bag.’

There was a cigarette machine. If he looked over Gill’s right shoulder he could see it there on the wall. Five brands, any of which would suffice. There was a book of matches waiting in the ashtray. He’d ordered a glass of house white, Gill spring water. The wine — ‘delicately bouqueted’ as the menu put it — arrived, and he gave it the nose test before sipping. It was chilled and sour.

‘How’s the bouquet?’ Gill asked.

‘Any more delicate and it’d need Prozac.’ The drinks card was in front of him, standing erect in its little holder, listing aperitifs and cocktails and digestifs, plus wines, beers, lagers, spirits. It was the most reading Rebus had done in a couple of days. As soon as he’d finished, he read it again. He wanted to shake the author’s hand.

One segment of pizza was enough.

‘Not hungry?’ Gill asked.

‘I’m dieting.’

‘You?’

‘I want to be fit for my walks along the beach.’

She wasn’t following him, shook her head clear of seeming non-sequiturs.

‘The thing is, Gill,’ he said after another sip of wine, ‘I think you were on to something big. And I think it can be salvaged. I just want to be sure it’s your collar.’

She looked at him. ‘Why?’

‘Because of all the Christmas presents I’ve never given you. Because you deserve it. Because it’ll be your first .’

‘It doesn’t count if you’ve done all the work.’

‘It’ll count all right, all I’m doing is reconnaissance.’

‘You mean you’re not finished?’

Rebus shook his head, asked the waiter to put the rest of the pizza in a box. He lifted the last piece of garlic bread.

‘I’m not nearly finished,’ he told her. ‘But I might need your help.’

‘Oh-oh. Here it comes.’

Rebus spoke quickly. ‘Chick Ancram’s got me set up for a series of grillings. I’ve already had one, and between ourselves he didn’t cook me more than medium rare. But they take up time, and I might want to head north again.’

‘John...’

‘All I need you to do... might need you to do, is telephone Ancram some day and tell him I’m working for you on something urgent, so we’ll have to reschedule the interview. Just charm the socks off him and give me some time. That’s all I need. I’ll try to keep you out of it if I can.’

‘So, to recap, all you need is for me to lie to a fellow officer who is carrying out an internal investigation? And meantime, lacking any physical or verbal evidence, you’ll be solving the drug-running case?’

‘Nicely summarised. I can see why you’re the CI instead of me.’ He shot to his feet, ran to the payphone. He’d heard it ringing before anyone in the restaurant. It was Jack, checking on him. He reminded Rebus about the doggie bag.

‘Being brought to the table as I speak.’

When he got to the table, Gill was checking the bill.

‘This is on me,’ Rebus said.

‘At least let me leave the tip. I ate most of the bread. And besides, my water cost more than your wine.’

‘You got the better deal. What’s it to be, Gill?’

She nodded. ‘I’ll tell him anything you like.’

Jack still had the power to surprise his old friend: wolfed the pizza. His only comment: ‘You didn’t eat much.’

‘Bit bland for me, Jack.’

Rebus was itching now: for a cigarette and Aberdeen both. There was something up there he wanted; he just didn’t know quite what it was.

The truth maybe.

He should have been itching for a drink too, but the wine had put him off. It slopped in his stomach, liquid heartburn. He sat at a desk and read through Shankley’s statement. The big man was in a cell downstairs. Jack had worked fast; Rebus couldn’t see anything missing.