Changeling: The Maverick Life of the Man They Call Mr. Big.
“I’ve never heard you called Mr. Big,” Rebus commented.
Cafferty shrugged. “Mairie’s idea, not mine. I must give her a call…I think she’s been avoiding me. That wouldn’t be anything to do with your good self, I suppose?”
Rebus ignored him. “With Tench out of the way, you’ll be moving into Niddrie and Craigmillar.”
“Will I?”
“With Carberry and his ilk as your foot soldiers.”
Cafferty gave a chuckle. “Mind if I make some notes? I wouldn’t want to forget any of this.”
“When you talked to Carberry this morning, you were letting him know the outcome you wanted-the only outcome that would save his neck.”
“You’re assuming young Keith was the only person I spoke to.” Cafferty was dribbling more whiskey into his glass.
“Who else?”
“Maybe Siobhan herself flew off the handle. I assume the murder team will want to talk to her?” Cafferty’s tongue was protruding slightly from his mouth.
“Who else have you talked to about Gareth Tench?”
Cafferty swilled the liquid around his glass. “You’re supposed to be the detective around here. I can’t go fighting all your battles for you.”
“Judgment day’s coming, Cafferty. For you and me both.” Rebus paused. “You know that, right?”
The gangster shook his head slowly. “I see us in a couple of deck chairs, somewhere hot but with ice-cold drinks. Reminiscing about the sparring we used to do, back in the days when the good guys thought they knew the bad guys. One thing this week should have shown all of us-only takes a few moments for everything to change. Protests crumble, poverty returns to the back burner…some alliances are strengthened, others weaken. All that effort sidelined, the voices silenced. In the time it takes to snap your fingers.” He did just this, as if to reinforce his point. “Makes all your hard work seem a little bit petty and unimportant, wouldn’t you say? And Gareth Tench-a year from now, think anyone’s going to remember him?” He drained his glass for the second time. “Now I really have to get back upstairs. Not that I don’t always enjoy our little get-togethers, you understand.” Cafferty placed his empty glass on the coffee table and gestured for Rebus to do the same. As they left the room, he switched off the lights, said something about doing his bit for the planet. The bodyguard was in the hall, hands clasped in front of him.
“Ever worked as a bouncer?” Rebus asked. “One of your colleagues-name of Colliar-he ended up on a stainless-steel slab. Just one of many perks associated with your dangerous employer.”
Cafferty was already climbing the staircase. It gratified Rebus that he had to use the banister to haul himself up each step. But then, he did much the same thing these days in his tenement. The bodyguard held the door open. Rebus brushed past him none too gently-not even a ripple of movement from the younger man. The door slammed after him. He stood on the path a moment, walked back to the gate, and let it clank shut. Scratched another match and lit a cigarette. Headed up the street, but paused beneath one of the underpowered lampposts. Took out his phone and tried Siobhan’s number, but she didn’t pick up. He walked to the top of the road and back down again. While he was standing there, an emaciated fox trotted out of a driveway and into the one next door. He’d started seeing them a lot in the city. They never seemed to panic or be shy. The look they gave their human neighbors was close to disdain or disappointment. Hunts had been banned from chasing them across country; people in the towns left scraps out for them. Hard to think of them as predators-but it was in their nature.
Predators being treated like pets.
Mavericks.
It was another thirty minutes before he began to hear the approaching taxi, its toiling diesel engine as distinctive as birdsong. Rebus climbed into the back and closed the door, but told the driver they were waiting for one more.
“Remind me,” he said, “is it cash or contract?”
“Contract.”
“MGC Holdings, right?”
“The Nook,” the driver corrected him.
“Dropping off at…?”
The driver now turned in his seat. “What’s the game, pal?”
“No game.”
“It’s a woman’s name on the pickup sheet-and if you’ve got a pussy, you should get on the phone to one of those Extreme Makeover programs.”
“Thanks for the advice.” Rebus tucked himself into the farthest corner of the cab as Cafferty’s door opened and closed. Heels clacking down the footpath, and then the cab’s door was opened, perfume wafting in.
“In you get,” Rebus said, before the woman could complain. “I just need a lift home.”
She hesitated, but climbed in eventually, and settled herself as far from Rebus as was possible. The red button was lit, meaning the driver would be able to listen in. Rebus found the right switch and turned it off.
“You work at the Nook?” he asked quietly. “Didn’t realize Cafferty’d got his mitts on it.”
“What’s it to you?” the woman snapped back.
“Just making conversation. Friend of Molly’s?”
“Never heard of her.”
“I was going to ask how she was. I’m the guy who dragged the diplomat off her the other night.”
The woman studied him. “Molly’s fine,” she said at last. Then: “How did you know you wouldn’t be waiting till dawn?”
“Human psychology,” he offered with a shrug. “Cafferty’s never struck me as the kind who’d let a woman stay the night.”
“Clever you.” There was just the hint of a smile. Hard to make out her features in the taxi’s shadowy interior. Clean hair, the sheen of lipstick, the smell of her perfume. Jewelry and high heels and a three-quarter-length coat, falling open to show a much shorter dress beneath. Plenty of mascara, the eyelashes exaggerated.
He decided on another nudge: “So Molly’s all right?”
“As far as I know.”
“What’s Cafferty like to work for?”
“He’s okay.” She turned to stare out at the passing scene, the street lighting showing him half her face. “He told me about you.”
“I’m CID.”
She nodded. “When he heard your voice downstairs, it was like someone had changed his batteries.”
“I do have that effect on people. Are we headed to the Nook?”
“I live in the Grassmarket.”
“Handy for work,” he commented.
“What is it you want?”
“You mean apart from a lift at Cafferty’s expense?” Rebus gave a shrug. “Maybe I just want to know why anyone would want to get close to him. See, I’m beginning to think he carries a virus-everyone he touches gets hurt in some way.”
“You’ve known him a lot longer than I have,” she replied.
“That’s true.”
“Meaning you must be immune?”
He shook his head. “Not immune, no.”
“He’s not hurt me yet.”
“That’s good…but the damage isn’t always immediate.” They were turning into Lady Lawson Street. The driver signaled to make a right. Another minute and they’d be in Grassmarket.
“Finished your Good Samaritan routine?” she asked, turning to face Rebus.
“It’s your life…”
“That’s right.” She leaned forward toward the driver’s panel. “Pull over next to the lights.”
He did as ordered. Started filling in the contract slip, but Rebus told him there was one last drop-off to make. She was climbing out of the cab. He waited for her to say something, but she slammed the door, crossed the road,
