'A while since that happened to me,' one said.
“Which?' his neighbour asked. 'Feeling like spewing or having a woman run her fingers through your hair?'
Rebus joined in the laughter and then busied himself with the cigarette. At the other end of the street, the lights were on in the First Minister's residence. A Labour enclave since devolution, it was now under threat from the Nationalists. In fact, Rebus couldn't think of a time when Scotland hadn't returned a Labour majority.
He had voted only three times in his life, each time for a different party. By the time of the devolution referendum, he'd lost all interest.
He'd met plenty of politicians since – Megan Macfarlane and Jim Bakewell were merely the latest examples – but reckoned half the regulars in the Ox would make better legislators. The likes of Bakewell and Macfarlane were a constant, and though Stuart Janney would go to prison, Rebus doubted it would have any real effect on First Albannach. They would continue to work with people like Sergei Andropov and Morris Gerald Cafferty, continue to rake in the bad money with the good. Jobs and prosperity: the majority didn't care how they came into being or were sustained.
Edinburgh had been built on the invisible industries of banking and insurance. Who cared if a few bribes oiled the wheels? What did it matter if some men got together to watch secretly filmed videos?
Andropov had said something about poets seeing themselves as unacknowledged legislators, but surely that title belonged to the men in the pinstripe suits?
'Reckon she's trying to kiss it better?' one of the smokers asked.
Hawes and Tibbet were now in an embrace of sorts, faces pressed together. Good luck to them, Rebus thought to himself. Police work had wedged itself into his own marriage, cracking it wide open, but that didn't have to be the case – he knew plenty of cops who were still married, some of them even wedded to other cops. They seemed to make it work.
'She's doing a good job of it,' the other smoker was answering his neighbour. The door was pulled open behind them and Siobhan Clarke appeared.
'There you are,' she said.
'Here I am,' Rebus agreed.
'We were worried you'd sloped off.'
'I'll just be a minute,' he said, showing her the remaining inch of cigarette.
She had wrapped her arms around herself, protection against the cold. 'Don't worry,' she said, 'we're not having speeches or anything.'
Tou've judged it just right, Shiv,' he assured her. 'Thanks.'
She accepted the praise with a twitch of her mouth. 'How's Colin doing?'
'I think Phyl's resuscitating him.' Rebus nodded in the direction of the two figures, who had now more or less merged into one.
'I hope they don't regret it in the morning,' she muttered.
“What's life without a few regrets?' one of the smokers challenged her.
'They'll put that on my headstone,' his companion stated.
Rebus and Clarke locked eyes again for a few silent moments.
'Come back into the warm,' she told him. He gave her a slow nod, stubbed out the remains of his cigarette and did as he was told.
It was gone midnight when his taxi pulled up outside the Western General Hospital. He got as far as the corridor to Cafferty's ward before one of the nurses stopped him.
Tou've been drinking,' she scolded him.
'Since when did nurses start making diagnoses?'
'I'll have to call security.'
What for?'
W7… j.
Tou can't go visiting a patient in the middle of the night. Not in that state.'
'Why not?'
'Because people are sleeping.'
'I'm not going to start playing the drums,' he protested.
She pointed to the ceiling. Rebus looked, too, and saw that a camera was trained on them. You're being monitored,' she warned him. 'A guard will be here any moment.'
'Christ's sake…'
The doors behind her – the doors to Cafferty's ward – swung open. A man was standing there.
'I'll handle this,' he said.
'Who are you?' she asked, turning to him. 'Who gave you permission to…?' But his warrant card silenced her.
'DI Stone,' he explained. 'This man's known to me. I'll see he doesn't cause further disturbance.' Stone nodded towards a row of chairs, meant for visitors. Rebus decided he could do with a sit down, so didn't argue. When he was seated, Stone nodded, letting the nurse know everything was under control. As she headed off, he sat beside Rebus, leaving one of the chairs empty between them.
He started to tuck his ID back into his pocket.
'I used to have one of those,' Rebus told him.
“What's in the bag?' Stone asked.
'My retirement.'
'That explains a lot.'
Rebus tried focusing on him. 'Such as?'
'The amount you've put away, for one thing.'
'Six pints, three shorts, and half a bottle of wine.'
'And the man's still standing.' Stone shook his head in disbelief.
'So what brings you here? Bit of unfinished business still niggling you?'
Rebus had started opening his cigarettes, until he remembered where he was. 'How do you mean?' he asked.
'Planning to unhook a few of Cafferty's plugs and tubes?'
'It wasn't me at the canal.'
'A blood-spattered overshoe says otherwise.'
'Didn't know inanimate objects could talk.' Rebus was thinking back to his chat with Sonia.
'They've got a language all of their own, Rebus,' Stone clarified, 'and Forensics to do the translating.'
Yes, Rebus thought, his mind clearing a little, and SOCOs to pick them up in the first place… SOCOs like little Sonia. 'Can I
assume,' he said, 'that you've been visiting the patient yourself?'
'Trying to change the subject?'
'Just wondering.'
Stone nodded eventually. 'The whole surveillance is in cold storage till he wakes up. Means I'm headed back home in the morning. DI Davidson will keep me informed of developments.'
'I wouldn't try asking him any difficult questions tomorrow,'
Rebus gave warning. 'He was last seen dancing his way down Young Street.'
'I'll bear that in mind.' Stone was rising to his feet. 'Now come on, I'll give you a lift.'
'My flat's the other end of town,' Rebus stated. 'I'll phone for a taxi.'
'Then I'll wait with you till it comes.'
'Not that you don't trust me, DI Stone.'
Stone didn't bother answering. Rebus had taken a couple of steps towards the ward, but only to peer through one of the porthole-style windows. He couldn't figure out which bed was Cafferty's. Some of them had screens around them anyway.
'What if you've pulled the plug on him?' Rebus asked. 'You've got yourself the perfect fall-guy.'
