'Same as with their Caribbean yachts – mine's bigger than yours.
And the mansions in London, the jewellery for the trophy wife…'
'I'm sure you're right.'
'Still doesn't explain the interest in Scotland.' They'd moved back out of the office into the gallery space.
'There are old ties, Inspector. Russians revere Robert Burns, for example, perhaps seeing him as an ideal of Communism. I forget which leader it was – Lenin, maybe – who said that if there was to be a revolt in Europe, it would most likely start in Scotland.'
'But that's all changed, hasn't it? We're talking capitalists, not Communists.'
'Old ties,' Blackman repeated. 'Maybe they still think there's a revolution on the cards.' And he smiled wistfully, making Rebus think the man had at one time been a card-carrier. Hell, why -not? Rebus had grown up in Fife, solidly working class and full coal mines. Fife had elected Britain's first – maybe even the 9nly – Communist MP. In the 1950s and 60s there'd been plenty of smmunist councillors. Rebus wasn't old enough for the General pStrike, but he remembered an aunt telling him about it – barricades
erected, towns and villages cut off – UDI, basically. The People's Kingdom of Fife. He had a little smile to himself, nodding at Terence Blackman.
'By revolution you mean independence?'
'Could hardly make a worse fist of it than the current lot…'
Blackman's mobile was ringing, and he pulled it from his pocket, walking away from Rebus and giving a little flick of the hand, hinting at dismissal.
'Thanks for your time,' Rebus muttered, heading for the door.
On the pavement outside he tried the artist's number. It rang and rang until an automated voice told him to leave a message. He did so, then tried another number. Siobhan Clarke picked up.
'Enjoying your leisure time?' she asked.
Tou're one to talk – is that an espresso machine I hear?'
'Had to get out of the station. Corbyn's brought Derek Starr back.'
'We knew it would happen.'
'We did,' she conceded. 'So I'm having a bit of a blether with Nancy Sievewright. She tells me that the night of the Todorov killing, she was at Sol's house trying to get some stuff. Only Sol was otherwise occupied, as we now know. But Nancy heard a car draw up and someone jump out and whack our poet across the back of the head.'
'So he was attacked twice?'
'It would seem so.'
'Same person each time?'
'Don't know. I was beginning to wonder if Sol himself might have been the intended target second time around.'
'It's a possibility.'
Tou sound sceptical.'
'Is Nancy in earshot?'
'Popped to the loo.'
'Well, for what it's worth, how about this: Todorov's jumped in the car park, that much we know. He staggers into the night, but the attacker calmly gets into his or her car and follows, decides to finish the job.'
'Meaning the car was in the multistorey?'
'Not necessarily… could've been parked on the street. Is it worth another trip to the City Chambers? Go back through the video. Up till now, we were looking at pedestrians…'
'Ask your friend at Central Monitoring to bring us numberplates for any cars going in or out of King's Stables Road?' She seemed
to be considering it. 'Thing is, Starr's busily rewinding to the mugging scenario.'
'You've not told him about the car?'
'Not yet.'
'Are you going to?' he asked teasingly.
'The alternative being, keep it to myself, just like you would?
Then if I'm right and he's wrong, I get the applause?'
“You're learning.'
'I'll have to mull it over.' But he could tell she was already half convinced. 'So what are you up to? I hear traffic'
'Bit of window-shopping.'
'Pull the other one.' She paused again. 'Nancy's coming back. I better hang up…'
'Tell me, did Starr make one of his “into the breach” speeches?'
'What do you think?'
'I'll bet Goodyear lapped it up.'
'I'm not so sure. Col liked it, though… I've sent him and Phyl to First Albannach. Janney's got Todorov's account details.'
'Took him long enough.'
'Well, he's had a lot on his plate – wining and dining the Russians at Gleneagles…'
Not to mention, Rebus could have added, hanging around the Granton seafront with Cafferty and Andropov… Instead, he said his goodbyes and hung up. Looked around him at the small shops: women's boutiques mostly. Realised he was a two-minute walk from the Caledonian Hotel.
Why the hell not?' he asked himself. Answer: no reason at all.
At reception, he asked for 'Mr Andropov's room'. But no one was answering. The clerk asked if he wanted to leave a message, but he shook his head and sauntered into the bar. It wasn't Freddie serving. This bartender was young and blonde and had an East European accent. To her opening question, Rebus replied that he'd have a Highland Park. She offered him ice, and he sensed she was new either to the job or to Scotland. He shook his head and asked where she was from.
'Cracow,' she said. 'In Poland.'
Rebus just nodded. His ancestors had come from Poland, but that was as much as he knew about the place. He slid on to a stool and scooped up some nuts from a bowl.
'Here we are,' she said, placing the drink in front of him.
'And some water, please.'
'Of course.' She sounded flustered, annoyed to have made the
mistake. About a pint of tap water arrived in a jug. Rebus added the merest dribble to the glass and swirled it in his hand.
'Meeting someone?' she asked.
'He's here to see me, I think.' Rebus turned towards the speaker.
Andropov must have been sitting in the same booth, the one with the blind spot. He managed a smile, but his eyes were cold.
'Henchman not with you?' Rebus asked.
Andropov ignored this. 'Another bottle of water,' he told the barkeeper. 'And no ice this time.'
She nodded and took the bottle from a fridge, unscrewing it and pouring.
'So, Inspector,' Andropov was saying, 'is it really me you're looking for?'
'Just happened to be in the area. I was visiting Terence Blackman's gallery.'
“You like art?' Andropov's eyebrows had gone up.
'I'm very keen on Roddy Denholm. Especially those early ones where he got the pre-school kids to do some doodles.'
'I think you are being mocking.' Andropov had picked up his drink. 'On my room,' he instructed the bartender. Then, to Rebus: 'Join me, please.'
'This is the same booth?' Rebus asked as they got settled.
