sentiment.
“I’m still asking myself the ‘how?’”
Whiteread’s mouth twitched. “There were records in his office. After which it was just a matter of talking to the marina manager.”
“You searched the boat?” Rebus was studying the yacht. It looked well-used. “On your own, or did you follow SOP?” SOP: standard operating procedure. Whiteread’s smile leveled out. Rebus turned his attention to Hogan. “Jurisdiction, Bobby. You might want to ask yourself why they went ahead with the search without contacting you first.” He pointed towards the two investigators. “I trust them about as much as I’d trust a junkie with a chemistry set.”
“What gives you the right to say that?” Simms was smiling, but only with his mouth. He looked Rebus up and down. “And talk about the pot calling the kettle black-it’s not us being investigated for -”
“That’s enough, Gavin!” Whiteread hissed. The young man fell silent. The whole marina seemed suddenly still and noiseless.
“This isn’t going to help us,” Bobby Hogan said. “Let’s send the stuff for analysis -”
“I know who needs analysis,” Simms muttered.
“- and meantime put our heads together to see what all of this might add to the inquiry. That all right with you?” He was looking at Whiteread, who nodded, apparently content. But she shifted her eyes to Rebus, daring him to hold her gaze. He stared back at her, knowing his message was being reinforced.
They ended up in a convoy of cars, heading for Port Edgar Academy. There were fewer ghouls and news crews outside the gates, and no uniforms patrolling the perimeter to repel trespassers. The Portakabin had outgrown its usefulness, and someone had finally thought of annexing one of the classrooms in the school building. The school itself wouldn’t reopen for a few days yet; even then, the crime scene would remain locked and unused. Everyone had gathered behind desks, where pupils would normally have been seated to listen to their geography teacher. There were maps on the walls, rainfall charts, pictures of tribesmen, bats and igloos. Some of the team preferred to stand, legs slightly apart, arms folded. Bobby Hogan stood in front of the pristine blackboard. Beside it was a marker board bearing the single word
“Could have been meant for us,” Hogan stated, tapping the board. “Thanks to our friends from the armed forces here…”-he nodded in the direction of Whiteread and Simms, who’d chosen to stand in the doorway-“the case has taken a slight turn. A seagoing yacht and a quantity of drugs. What do we make of that?”
“Smuggling, sir,” a voice stated.
“Just to add one fact…” The speaker was standing at the back of the room: Customs and Excise. “The majority of Ecstasy coming into the UK originates in Holland.”
“So we need to take a look at Herdman’s logs,” Hogan announced. “See where he’s been sailing to.”
“Logs can always be falsified, of course,” the Customs man added.
“We also need to talk to the Drugs Squad, see what they know about the Ecstasy scene.”
“We’re sure it’s Eckies, sir?” a voice piped up.
“Whatever it is, it’s not seasickness pills.” There was some forced laughter at this.
“Sir, does this mean the case will be handed over to DMC?” DMC: Drugs and Major Crime.
“I can’t answer that as yet. What we need to do is focus on the work we’re already doing.” Hogan looked around the room, making sure he had everyone’s attention. The only person not looking at him, he noted, was John Rebus. Rebus was staring at the two figures in the doorway, his eyebrows lowered in a thoughtful frown. “We also need to go over that yacht with a fine-tooth comb, see if we managed to miss anything else.” Hogan saw Whiteread and Simms share a look. “Right, any questions?” he asked. There were a few, but he dealt with them briskly. One officer wanted to know how much a yacht like Herdman’s would cost. An answer had already been provided by the marina manager: for a forty-foot yacht, six berths, you’d need sixty thousand pounds. If you were buying secondhand.
“Which didn’t come from his pension fund, trust me,” Whiteread commented.
“We’re already looking at Herdman’s various bank accounts and other assets,” Hogan told the room, glancing again in Rebus’s direction.
“Mind if we’re included in the search of the boat?” Whiteread asked. Hogan couldn’t think of any reason to refuse, so just gave a shrug. As the meeting broke up, he found Rebus by his side.
“Bobby,” the voice reduced to a murmur, “those drugs could be a plant.”
Hogan stared at him. “To what possible purpose?”
“I don’t know. But I don’t trust -”
“You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“Things were looking like they were winding down. This gives Whiteread and her lackey an excuse to stick around.”
“I don’t see that.”
“You forget, I’ve dealt with their kind before.”
“No old scores to settle?” Hogan was trying to keep his voice down.
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it?”
“An ex-soldier goes off on one, last people you’ll see afterwards are his old employers. They don’t want the publicity.” The two men were out in the corridor now. There was no sign of the army duo. “More than that, they don’t want any blame attaching. That’s why they steer clear.”
“So?”
“So, the Gruesome Twosome are sticking to this like shit to a shoe sole. There’s got to be more to it.”
“More to it than what?” Despite his best endeavors, Hogan’s voice had risen. People were looking towards them. “Herdman paid for that boat somehow…”
Rebus shrugged. “Just do me a favor, Bobby. Get hold of Herdman’s army record.” Hogan stared at him. “I’m willing to bet Whiteread’s got a copy with her. You could ask to see it. Tell her you’re just curious. She might be willing.”
“Jesus Christ, John…”
“You want to know why Herdman did what he did? That’s why you brought me here, unless I’m mistaken.” Rebus looked around, to make sure no one was within earshot. “First time I met them, they were crawling all over Herdman’s boat shed. Next thing, they’re snooping around his yacht. Now they’re heading back there. It’s like they’re looking for something.”
“What?”
Rebus shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“John… Complaints and Conduct are just about to start crawling all over
“So?”
“So is there any way you could be… I don’t know…”
“You think I’m reading too much into it?”
“You’re under a lot of stress.”
“Bobby, either you think I’m up to the job or you don’t.” Rebus folded his arms. “Which is it?” Rebus’s mobile was trilling again.
“You going to answer that?” Rebus shook his head. Bobby Hogan sighed. “Okay, I’ll talk to Whiteread.”
“Don’t mention my name. And don’t seem too worried about getting hold of the files. You’re just curious, that’s all.”
“I’m just curious,” Hogan echoed.
Rebus gave him a wink and moved off. Siobhan was waiting at the entrance to the school.
“Are we going to talk to James Bell?” she asked.
Rebus nodded. “But first, let’s see how good a detective you really are, DS Clarke.”
“I think we both know the answer.”
“Okay, then, smarty-pants. You’re army personnel, fairly senior level, and you’re dispatched from Hereford to Edinburgh for a week or so. Where do you base yourself?”
Siobhan thought about it as she got into her car. She slid the key into the ignition and turned to Rebus.
