Ian Rankin: Even Dogs in the Wild

‘Then you’re one up on me.’ Rebus stretched out a hand for Compston to shake. Compston complied, introducing himself as he did.

‘Desks for five, meaning we’re a few short,’ Rebus was musing, studying the room. ‘And barely any paperwork. Hush-hush, is it? Here to take down the Starks?’

Compston was staring hard at Fox, waiting for an explanation. Rebus tried to rest a hand on Fox’s shoulder, but Fox twisted away from him.

‘Can’t really blame Malcolm here,’ Rebus said. ‘I was the only way he was getting to Cafferty and Christie.’

‘Is that right?’ Compston’s eyes were still on Fox, while Fox’s were directed at the floor.

‘Chief Constable must really have a stiffy for the Starks — team like this doesn’t come cheap.’ Rebus slid his backside on to a desk, feet waggling. ‘I’m guessing Foxy is your local liaison, and he asked for my help because he wanted to impress you with his gung-ho, can-do attitude. How did he do?’

‘This is no place for a civilian, Rebus,’ Compston said.

‘War breaks out in the city, it’s bad for everyone, whether in a uniform or not. If you’re watching the Starks, you know the score. They might be readying to take down Darryl Christie.’

‘That’s not why they’re here,’ Alec Bell let slip, receiving a withering look from Compston in response.

‘Darryl thinks it is. He’s got it into his head that they’re coming for him, stoked up by Cafferty.’

‘They’ve met neither Cafferty nor this Darryl Christie,’ Compston stated.

‘So Dennis isn’t being introduced to low society?’ Rebus scratched his cheek. ‘You sure about that?’

‘We’ve got our eyes and ears on them.’

‘One of them didn’t happen to mosey over to Cafferty’s neck of the woods last night and point a gun at him?’

‘We don’t think so.’

‘There may have been gaps in the surveillance,’ Fox piped up. ‘Just about big enough to make it a possibility.’

‘I’m wishing now I’d stuck you in a corner with that fucking Angry Birds game,’ Compston snarled, jumping to his feet and pacing the room.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Rebus said, ‘Malcolm didn’t tell me a single thing about the operation here, and nothing he said in front of either Cafferty or Christie will have made them any the wiser.’

‘ You found out, though.’

Rebus shook his head. ‘He got me curious, that’s all.’ He glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Now, how about letting me drag you across the road for a drink? It’s not the worst boozer in town, and I’m betting no one’s had the decency to wet the team’s head, as it were.’

‘We’re supposed to be waiting for the lads to report in,’ Bell cautioned.

Compston thought for a moment. ‘Won’t do any harm, though, will it? No more than has already been wreaked by DI Fox. You can man the post here if you like, Alec.’

‘Strength in numbers, Ricky — I better come with you.’

‘It’s unanimous, then.’ Rebus eased himself off the desk. ‘Lead the way, DI Fox — it’s your round, after all.’

The pub was half full of workers on their way home and students playing games of chess and draughts. There being no free tables, the group made for the far end of the bar. Fox bought the drinks — three pints and a sparkling water.

‘If I’d known you didn’t drink,’ Compston admonished him, ‘you’d have been off my team from minute one.’ He took the first of the proffered beers and tried a mouthful, smacking his lips.

‘How have you been, John?’ Bell and Rebus clinked glasses.

‘Mustn’t grumble, Alec. You still in Glasgow?’

‘Attached to Gartcosh these days.’

‘Congratulations. Bit of a step up from busting druggies and wife-beaters.’

‘Aye.’

‘So someone’s running around your city with a firearm?’ Compston interrupted. ‘Doesn’t seem to have made the news.’

‘Cafferty’s saying it was an accident. Tripped and smashed a window. Neighbours say otherwise, and there’s a bullet hole in his living-room wall.’

‘The two of you are cosy, then?’

‘Insofar as I’ve spent half my life trying to put him away.’

‘Any success?’

‘He was released from jail on medical grounds, followed by a miracle cure.’ Rebus placed his glass on the bar. ‘So, are you ready to tell me a story, or do we just keep going around the houses like a taxi driver on his first trip to Livingston?’

Compston looked to Alec Bell.

‘John’s one of the good guys, despite all appearances,’ Bell confirmed.

‘The Starks,’ Compston began, after a further moment’s consideration, ‘are looking for a man called Hamish Wright. He’s a haulage contractor, used to deliver drugs around the country in his containers. We’ve been watching the Starks for a while, and when they left Glasgow for Inverness and visited Wright’s yard there, we knew something was up. Aberdeen and Dundee after that, and now here.’

‘Have you tried looking for Wright yourselves?’

‘He’s definitely done a flit. Wife is covering his arse, says he’s in London on business, but he’s not made any calls on his phone and there’s nothing to show he’s there.’

‘What about his car?’

‘Parked in the garage at his home.’

‘Does the wife seem spooked?’

‘I’d say so.’

‘He’s got something belonging to the Starks?’ Rebus speculated.

‘Drugs and cash, probably,’ Bell offered.

Compston’s phone was buzzing — incoming call. ‘It’s Beth,’ he said, pressing the phone to one ear while covering the other with his free hand. But the noise in the bar proved too much, so he began making for the door. Once he was outside, Rebus focused on Bell.

‘What’s he like then, Alec?’

‘He’s all right.’

‘Better than you?’ Rebus didn’t sound convinced.

‘Just different. It is drugs and cash, by the way. Plenty of both. All this stuff about muscling in on your man Christie is wrong. Or them going after Big Ger Cafferty, for that matter.’

‘You got wire taps or something?’ Rebus mused.

‘Better than that.’ Bell turned his attention towards Fox, checking that the door was still closed and stabbing a finger at him. ‘This goes no further.’

Fox held up his hands in a show of appeasement.

‘We’ve got a man on the inside. Deep cover.’

‘Bob Selway?’ Fox guessed, but Bell shook his head.

‘No names. He’s been undercover for more than three years, worming his way closer and closer to the Starks.’

‘Takes a bit of stamina,’ Rebus said, impressed.

‘Explains why my boss thought we were welcoming a team of six,’ Fox added.

‘Aye, someone at Gartcosh bolloxed that up — and got Ricky Compston raging at them for their efforts.’

‘Three years — is that how long the team’s been together?’

Bell shook his head again. ‘There’ve been others before us. The Starks are behind half the crime in Glasgow and beyond — so far no operation’s been able to nail down their coffin.’

‘Sounds like your mole’s not exactly earning his keep,’ Fox commented. Bell scowled at him.

‘So what’s the story with this haulage contractor?’ Rebus hoisted his pint to his mouth.

‘Wasn’t happy moving stuff for the Starks. Wanted to be more of a freelance operator, you might say. He was talking to people in Aberdeen and elsewhere.’

‘Including here?’ Rebus watched as Alec Bell nodded slowly. ‘Meaning Darryl Christie?’

‘Very possibly.’

‘So the Starks will want a face-to-face with Darryl.’

‘They might, but they’d rather find Hamish Wright first, if he’s sitting on half a million in coke and eccies and the same in lovely hard cash.’