Ian Rankin: Strip Jack

Another day, another dolour. Thursday. Two weeks since they'd found Elizabeth Jack's body. Now all they could do was wait… and hope no more bodies turned up. Rebus picked up his office phone. It was Lauderdale.

'The Chief Super's bitten the bullet,' he told Rebus. 'We're holding a press conference, putting out wanteds on both of them, Steele and Jack.'

'Does Sir Hugh know yet?'

'I wouldn't want to be the one who tells him. He marches in here with his son-in-law, not knowing the bugger killed his daughter? No, I wouldn't want to be the one who tells him.'

'Am I supposed to be there?'

'Of course, and bring Holmes, too. After all, he's the one who spotted the car…'

The line went dead. Rebus stared at the receiver. Alsatian bites man after all…

Spotted it and told Nell about it all last night. Repeating the story, adding missed details, hardly able to sit down. Until she'd screeched at him to stop or else she'd go off her head. That calmed him down a little, but not much.

'You see, Nell, if they'd told me earlier, if they'd let me in on the whole story of the car colours, of why they were needed, well, we'd have nailed him all the sooner, wouldn't we? I don't want to, but really I blame John. It was him who…"

'I thought you said it was Lauderdale who gave you the job in the first place?'

'Yes, true, but even so John should have-'

'Shut up! For God's sake, just shut up!'

'Mind you, you're right, Laud-'

'Shutup!'

He shut up.

And now here he was at the press conference, and there was Inspector Gill Templer, who had such a rapport with the press, handing out sheets of paper – the official release – and generally making sure that everyone knew what was going on. And Rebus, of course, looking the same as ever. Which was to say, tired and suspicious. Watson and Lauderdale hadn't made their entrance yet, but would do so soon.

'Well, Brian,' said Rebus quietly, 'reckon they'll promote you to Inspector for this?'

'No.'

'What then? You look like a kid who's about to get the school prize.'

'Come on, be fair. We all know you did most of the work.'

'Yes, but you stopped me haring after the wrong man.'

'So?'

'So now I owe you a favour.' Rebus grinned. 'I hate owing favours.'

'Ladies and gentlemen,' came Gill Templer's voice, 'if you'll find yourselves a seat we can start…'

A moment later Watson and Lauderdale entered the room. Watson was first to speak.

'I think you all know why we've called this conference.' He paused. 'We're looking for two men we think may be able to help us with a certain inquiry, a murder inquiry. The names are Ronald Adam Steele and Gregor Gordon Jack…'

The local evening paper had it in by its lunchtime edition. The radio stations were broadcasting the names in their hourly news slots. The early evening TV news carried the story. The usual questions were being asked, to which the usual 'no comment's were being appended. But the phone call itself came only at half past six. The call was from Dr Frank Forster.

I'd have known sooner, Inspector, only we don't like to let the patients listen to the news. It just upsets them. It's only when I was getting ready to go home that I turned on the radio in my office…'

Rebus was tired. Rebus was terribly, terribly tired. 'What is it, Dr Forster?'

'It's your man Jack, Gregor Jack. He was here this afternoon. He was visiting Andrew Macmillan.'

It was nine that evening when Rebus reached Duthil Hospital. Andrew Macmillan was sitting in Forster's office, arms folded, waiting.

'Hello again,' he said.

'Hello, Mr Macmillan.'

There were five of them: two 'nurses', Dr Forster, Macmillan and Rebus. The nurses stood behind Macmillan's chair, their bodies less than two inches from his.

'We've sedated him,' Forster had explained to Rebus. 'He may not be as talkative as usual, but he should stay calm. I heard about what happened last time…'

'Nothing happened last time, Dr Forster. He just wanted to have a normal conversation. What's wrong with that?'

Macmillan looked on the verge of sleep. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his smile fixed. He unfolded his arms and rested the hands delicately on his knees, reminding Rebus at that moment of Mrs Corbie…

'Inspector Rebus wants to ask you about Mr Jack,' explained Forster.

'That's right,' said Rebus, resting against the edge of the desk. There was a chair for him, but he was stiff after the drive. I was wondering why he visited. It's unusual after all, isn't it?'

'It's a first,' corrected Macmillan. 'They should put up a plaque. When I saw him come in, I thought he must be here to open an extension or something. But no, he just walked right up to me…" His hands were moving now, carving air, his eyes held by the movements they made. 'Walked right up to me, and he said… he said, "Hello, Mack." Just like that. Like we'd seen one another the day before, like we saw one another every day.'

'What did you talk about?'

'Old friends. Yes, old friends… old friendships. We'd always be friends, he told me. We couldn't not be friends. We went back all the way. Yes, all the way back… All of us. Suey and Gowk, Beggar and me, Bilbo, Tampon, Sexton Blake… Friends are important, that's what he said. I told him about Gowk, about how she visited sometimes… about the money she gives this place… He didn't know about any of that. He was interested. He works too hard though, you can see that. He doesn't look healthy any more. Not enough sunlight. Have you ever seen the House of Commons? Hardly any windows. They work away in there like moles…'

'Did he say anything else?'

'I asked him why he never answered my letters. Do you know what he said? He said he never even received them! He said he'd take it up with the post office, but I know who it is.' He turned to Forster. 'It's you, Dr Forster. You're not letting out any of my mail. You're steaming off the stamps and using them for yourself! Well, be warned, Gregor Jack MP knows all about it now. Something'll be done now.' He remembered something and turned quickly to Rebus. 'Did you touch the earth for me?'

Rebus nodded. 'I touched the earth for you.'

Macmillan nodded too, satisfied. 'How did it feel, Inspector?'

'It felt fine. Funny, it's something I've always taken for granted -'

'Never take anything for granted, Inspector,' said Macmillan. He was calming a little. All the same, you could see him fighting against the soporifics in his bloodstream, fighting for the right to get angry, to get… to get mad. 'I asked him about Liz,' he said. 'He told me she's the same as ever. But I didn't believe that. I'm sure their marriage is in trouble. Incompatible. My wife and I were just the same.,.' His voice trailed off. He swallowed, laid his hands flat against his knees again and studied them. 'Liz was never one of The Pack. He should have married Gowk, only Kinnoul got to her first.' He looked up. 'Now there's a man who needs treatment. If Gowk knew what she was about, she'd have him see a psychiatrist. All those roles he's played… bound to have an effect, aren't they? I'll tell Gowk next time I see her. I haven't seen her for a while…'

Rebus shifted his weight a little. 'Did Beggar say anything else. Mack? Anything about where he was headed or why he was here?'

Macmillan shook his head. Then he sniggered. 'Headed, did you say? Headed?' He chuckled to himself for a few moments, then stopped as abruptly as he'd started. 'He just wanted to let me know we were friends.' He laughed quietly. 'As if I needed reminding. And one other thing. Guess what he wanted to know? Guess what he asked? After all these years…'

'What?'

'He wanted to know what I'd done with her head.'

Rebus swallowed. Forster was licking his lips. 'And what did you tell him, Mack?'