Ian Rankin - Even Dogs in the Wild

‘Your man’s told you this?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve got enough to take to trial?’

‘Just about.’

‘But you want more.’

Bell gave a wide smile. ‘Always.’

‘The longer your man is embedded, though, the more risk there is of him being rumbled.’

‘He’s aware of that.’

‘Deserves a medal, whatever happens.’

Bell was nodding as Compston pushed open the door and strode towards the group, rubbing his hands to warm them.

‘The Starks have been meeting a man called Andrew Goodman.’

‘He runs a stable of nightclub bouncers,’ Rebus said.

‘That’s right. Which means he has a say in what gets into pubs and clubs.’

‘His boys do,’ Rebus corrected.

‘Including illegal substances,’ Fox added, ‘and those carrying them with intent to sell.’

‘Very good,’ Compston said.

‘He knows Hamish Wright?’ Rebus asked.

Compston shrugged. ‘This is a long game we’re playing. But eventually all the bits of the jigsaw will fit together.’

Rebus wrinkled his nose. ‘Sometimes a bit gets lost between the floorboards, though. Or it wasn’t in the box from the get-go.’

‘Cheery bastard, aren’t you? Whose round is it?’

‘I need to be going,’ Fox apologised.

‘Back across the road to report to your boss? Decided yet how much you’re going to spill?’ When Fox didn’t answer, Compston made a shooing motion, dismissing him, but Fox lingered.

‘I know why it’s called Operation Junior,’ he stated.

Compston lifted an eyebrow. ‘Go on then.’

‘The Iron Man films — Robert Downey Junior plays a character called Stark.’

Compston was miming a round of applause as Fox made his exit.

‘Same again, John?’ Bell was asking. Rebus nodded, watching the retreating figure. Then he turned towards Compston.

‘Malcolm’s all right, but the one thing he’s not is dirty. So if you start crossing the line, that may be when he sounds the alarm. Up until then, he’ll be fine.’

‘I’m not happy he brought you in.’

‘He told me the bare minimum. Until I walked into St Leonard’s, I didn’t know what I was going to find.’

‘But you’d sussed there was something he was holding back.’

‘Only because I’m good at this. So where are the Starks now?’

‘Dennis and his boys are eating a curry somewhere on Leith Walk, and the dad’s on his way back to Glasgow — got a bit of business there, apparently.’

‘With one or two of your team on his tail?’

‘Jake and Bob,’ Compston confirmed, more for Bell’s benefit than Rebus’s. ‘Means you and me might have to spell for Beth and Peter a bit later.’

‘Fine by me,’ Bell said.

Compston turned his attention back to Rebus, making a show of looking him up and down.

‘So what do we do with you, Mr Rebus?’

‘Apart from getting the next round in, you mean?’

‘Apart from that, yes.’

‘Well, I suppose I could tell you a bit about Cafferty and Christie. Just to pass the time.’ Rebus gestured towards one of the tables where two students were finishing a board game and rising to leave. ‘Or I could tan your arse at draughts — I’ll leave it to you to choose.’

Doug Maxtone was walking down the corridor, shrugging his shoulders into his overcoat, when Fox reached the top of the stairs.

‘Thought I was being stood up,’ Maxtone said. ‘Went to the office, but it’s in darkness.’

‘Sorry, sir. Some of them are on surveillance and the others went for a drink.’

Maxtone stopped walking, adjusting his scarf. ‘Well then?’ he said.

‘How much did they share at the briefing — just so I’m not telling you what you already know?’

‘Compston and his team are in town to keep tabs on a gang run by Joe and Dennis Stark.’

‘And the Starks are here…?’

‘Because someone’s done a bunk and they want to find him.’ Maxtone paused. ‘I thought you were the one making the report?’

‘To be honest, there’s not a lot I can add. Compston’s team are keeping watch, but so far the man being sought hasn’t turned up.’

‘And Edinburgh’s just one stop, yes?’

‘That’s right, sir. They’ve already looked for him in other cities.’

‘So if they don’t find him soon, they’ll move on elsewhere?’

‘I’d presume so.’

‘Fine then.’ Maxtone made to move off, but paused. ‘Compston’s behaving himself? No regulations being broken, no toes trampled?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘But would you be aware of it?’

‘I think so.’

‘Fine then,’ Maxtone repeated. ‘See you tomorrow, Malcolm.’

‘Absolutely.’

Fox watched as his boss began to descend the stairs. No reason the man had to know anything — about Cafferty and Christie or the missing drugs or the cop who had infiltrated the Stark gang. No reason for any of that to trouble Doug Maxtone’s evening.

He walked to the door of the Operation Junior office and turned the handle. Sure enough, it wasn’t locked. He switched on the lights and went in. There were two laptops, both in sleep mode. He dabbed a finger against both trackpads, waking them and confirming that they were password-protected. A few sheets of paper lay on one desk, including the photo of Hamish Wright. Beneath it was a copy of a phone bill — Wright’s most recent mobile bill, to be precise. Someone had checked the numbers, the details scribbled in the margin. Fox took his own phone out and snapped a picture, then put everything back in order, padding back to the door and switching off the light once more.

It was his night to phone his sister, and he would take care of that as soon as he got home. After which he planned to fire up his computer and see what he could glean about the Starks and their cohorts.

And if that didn’t take as long as he feared it well might, he’d call Siobhan just prior to bedtime to ask how her day had gone and maybe tell her a little of his.

Having stopped at a newsagent’s to buy a paper, Fox got back in his car and phoned Siobhan Clarke. She answered on the sixth ring.

‘I was wondering why I couldn’t reach you last night,’ Fox said, staring at the front-page headline.

‘Got a bit hectic, I admit.’

‘You gave the story to your pal Laura.’

‘Yes.’

‘I’m guessing today will be busy too.’

‘Actually, I’m happy for James to hog the limelight. I’m heading to Linlithgow with Christine. We’re just about there.’

‘Oh?’

‘Anyway, what are you up to?’

‘Those visitors I mentioned, the ones from Gartcosh? I’m acting as liaison, sort of.’

‘Keeping an eye on them for Maxtone?’

‘Pretty much. They’re in town because a Glasgow gangster’s—’

‘Sorry, Malcolm, you’re breaking up. And I need to start looking for the turn-off.’

‘Maybe speak to you later then?’

But the signal had gone. Fox turned off the phone and skimmed the news story again, before placing the paper on the passenger seat, on top of a bulging folder. There had been a lot about the Stark family on the internet. He’d printed off much of it and taken everything to bed with him, along with a pad of lined A4 paper. Joe Stark’s wife had died young, leaving him to bring up their only child, Dennis. Fox reckoned Joe had lacked any but the most basic parenting skills. He’d been too busy extending his empire and consolidating his reputation as one of the most ruthless thugs in Glasgow gangland — which was no mean feat, considering the competition. Dennis had been trouble from his earliest days in primary school. Bullied (and maybe worse, ignored) by his father, he’d become a bully himself. It helped that he’d grown up fast, building muscle to go with his threats. In his early teens, only a wily lawyer had stopped him doing time for an attack outside a football ground.