Macrae and reached a slow hand to his own face to remove the sunglasses. “How am I doing so far?”
Macrae’s face had reddened in anger. All day he’d been treated with the dignity that was his due. Now this.
“Care to show some ID?” Macrae snapped. The man stared at him then gave a wry smile. Is that all you’ve got? the smile seemed to say. As he reached into his jacket, not bothering to unbutton it, his eyes shifted from Macrae to Rebus. The smile stayed, inviting Rebus to share its message. A small black leather wallet was held open for Macrae’s inspection.
“There,” the man said, snapping it shut again. “Now you know all there is to know about me.”
“You’re Steelforth,” Macrae said, clearing his throat between words. Rebus could see his boss had been thrown. Macrae turned toward him. “Commander Steelforth is in charge of G8 security,” he explained. But Rebus had already guessed as much. Macrae turned back to Steelforth. “I was in Glenrothes this morning, being given a tour courtesy of ACC Finnigan. And Gleneagles yesterday…” Macrae’s voice faltered. Steelforth was already moving away from him, toward Rebus.
“Not interrupting your coronary, am I?” he asked, glancing at the sandwich. Rebus gave the belch he felt the query demanded. Steelforth’s eyes narrowed.
“We can’t all be dining courtesy of the taxpayer,” Rebus said. “How is the food at Gleneagles, by the way?”
“I doubt you’ll get the chance to find out, Detective Sergeant.”
“Not a bad guess, sir, but your eyes deceive you.”
“This is DI Rebus,” Macrae was explaining. “I’m DCI Macrae, Lothian and Borders.”
“Based where?” Steelforth asked.
“ Gayfield Square,” Macrae answered.
“In Edinburgh,” Rebus added.
“You’re a long way from home, gentlemen.” Steelforth was heading down the path.
“A man was murdered in Edinburgh,” Rebus explained. “Some of his clothing has turned up here.”
“Do we know why?”
“I intend keeping a lid on it, Commander,” Macrae stated. “Once the SOCOs are finished, that’s us done and dusted.” Macrae was at Steelforth’s heels, Rebus bringing up the rear.
“No plans for any premiers or presidents to come leave a wee offering?” Rebus asked.
Instead of answering, Steelforth marched into the clearing. The senior SOCO stuck a hand against his chest. “More fucking footprints,” he growled.
Steelforth glared at the hand. “Do you know who I am?”
“Don’t give a bollocks, pal. Fuck up my crime scene, you’ll answer for it.”
The Special Branch man considered for a moment, then relented, retracing his steps to the edge of the clearing, content to watch the operation. His cell sounded, and he answered it, moving farther away to prevent being overheard. Siobhan gave a questioning look. Rebus mouthed the word later and dug into his pocket, bringing out a ten-pound note.
“Here,” he said, offering it to the SOCO.
“What’s that for?”
Rebus just winked, and the man pocketed the money, adding the word “Cheers.”
“I always tip for service beyond the norm,” Rebus told Macrae. Nodding, Macrae dug into his own pocket and found a fiver for Rebus.
“Halfers,” the DCI said.
Steelforth was returning to the clearing. “I need to get back to more important matters. When will you be finished here?”
“Half an hour,” one of the other SOCOs answered.
“Longer if need be,” Steelforth’s nemesis added. “A crime scene’s a crime scene, no matter what other wee sideshows there are.” Like Rebus before him, he hadn’t been slow to work out Steelforth’s role.
The Special Branch man turned to Macrae. “I’ll inform ACC Finnigan, shall I? Let him know we have your full understanding and cooperation?”
“As you wish, sir.”
Steelforth’s face softened a little. His hand made contact with Macrae’s arm. “I’m willing to bet you didn’t see everything there is to see. When you’re finished here, come see me at Gleneagles. I’ll give you the proper tour.”
Macrae melted; a kid on Christmas morning. But he recovered well, stiffening his spine.
“Thank you, Commander.”
“Call me David.”
Crouched as if for evidence gathering some way behind Steelforth’s back, the senior SOCO made a show of sticking a finger down his throat.
Three cars would be making their way separately to Edinburgh. Rebus shuddered to think what the ecologists would say to that. Macrae peeled off first, heading for Gleneagles. Rebus had driven past the hotel earlier. When you approached Auchterarder from Kinross, you saw the hotel and its grounds a long time before you reached the town. Thousands of acres but few signs of security. He had caught just the one glimpse of fencing, alerted by a temporary structure which he took to be a watchtower. Rebus shadowed Macrae on the way back, his boss sounding the horn as he turned into the hotel’s driveway. Siobhan had guessed Perth as the quickest road, Rebus opting to retrace his cross-country route, pick up the M90 eventually. Still plenty of blue in the sky. Scottish summers were a blessing, a reward for the long winter’s twilight. Rebus turned down the music and called Siobhan’s cell.
“Hands-free, I hope…” she told him.
“Don’t be smart.”
“…otherwise you’re setting a bad example.”
“First time for everything. What did you make of our friend from London?”
“Unlike you, I don’t have those hang-ups.”
“What hang-ups?”
“With authority…with the English…with…” She paused. “Want me to go on?”
“Last time I looked, I still outrank you.”
“So?”
“So I could cite you for insubordination.”
“And give the chiefs a good laugh?”
His silence conceded the point. Either she’d gotten lippier down the years, or he was getting rusty. Both, probably. “Think we can talk the lab techs into a Saturday shift?” he asked.
“Depends.”
“What about Ray Duff? One word from you and he’d do it.”
“And all I’d have to do in return is spend a whole day with him, touring in that smelly old car.”
“It’s a design classic.”
“Something he won’t begin to tire of telling me.”
“Rebuilt it from scratch…”
Her sigh was audible. “What is it with forensics? They all have these hobbies.”
“So you’ll ask him?”
“I’ll ask him. Are you carousing this evening?”
“Night shift.”
“Same day as a funeral?”
“Someone’s got to do it.”
“I’m betting you insisted.”
He didn’t answer, instead asked what her own plans were.
“Getting my head down. Want to be up bright and early for the march.”
“What have they got you doing?”
She laughed. “I’m not working, John-I’m going because I want to.”
“Bloody hell.”
