Rebus had a sudden image: the bull with its legs buckling, a bullet between its eyes… He shook himself free of it. 'Let's go see what the damage is,' he said.
Inside the hospital, the first question they were asked was: 'Are you family?'
'He's my brother,' Rebus stated. This seemed to oil the wheels, and they were shown to a waiting area, deserted this time of night.
Rebus picked up a magazine. It was page after page of celebrity gossip, but as it was also six months out of date, chances were the celebrities had already been returned to obscurity. He offerecl it to Clarke, but she shook her head.
Tour brother?' she said.
Rebus just shrugged. His real brother had died a year and a half back. Over the past couple of decades, Rebus had paid him a lot less attention than Cafferty… probably spent less time with him, too.
You can't choose your family, he thought to himself, but you can choose your enemies.
'What if he dies?' Clarke asked, folding her arms. She had her legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, and was slumped low in the chair.
'I'm not that lucky,' Rebus told her. She glowered at him.
'So who do you reckon is behind it?'
'Can we make that a multiple-choice question?' he asked.
'How many names have you got?'
'Depends if he's gone upsetting his Russian friends.'
'Andropov?'
'For starters. SCD reckoned they were close to having Cafferty in the bag. Might be a lot of people out there who couldn't let that happen.' He broke off as an unfeasibly young doctor in the
traditional white coat pushed through the swinging doors at the end of the corridor and, notes in one hand, pen between his teeth, marched up to them. He removed the pen and popped it into his top pocket.
Tou're the patient's brother?' he asked. Rebus nodded. 'Well, Mr Cafferty, I don't have to tell you that Morris seems blessed with an unusually resistant skull.'
'We call him Ger,' Rebus said. 'Sometimes Big Ger.'
The young doctor nodded, consulting his notes.
'But is he okay?' Clarke asked.
'Far from it. We'll do another scan in the morning. He's still unconscious, but there's enough brain activity to be going on with.'
He paused, as if deciding how much more they needed to know.
'When the skull is hit with tremendous force, the brain shuts down automatically so as to protect itself, or at least limit and assess the damage. The problem we sometimes have is getting it to restart.'
'Like rebooting a computer?' Clarke offered. The doctor seemed to agree.
'And it's too early yet to say whether there's any damage to your uncle,' he told her. 'No blood clots that we could see, but we'll know more tomorrow.'
'He's not my uncle,' she said sternly. Rebus patted her arm.
'She's upset,' he explained to the doctor. And then, as Clarke pulled her arm away: 'So he was hit hard with something?'
'Two or three times probably,' the doctor agreed.
'Attacked from behind?' The doctor was growing less comfortable with each new question.
'The blows were to the back of the skull, yes.'
Rebus was looking at Siobhan Clarke. Alexander Todorov, too, had been hit hard from behind, hard enough to kill. 'Can we see him, Doc?' Rebus asked.
'As I say, he's not awake at present.'
'But all the same…' The doctor was looking worried now. 'Is there a problem with that?' Rebus persisted.
'Look, I've been told who Mr Cafferty is… I know he has a certain reputation in Edinburgh.'
'And?' Rebus asked.
The doctor moistened his dry lips. 'Well, you're his brother… asking all these questions. Please tell me you're not going to go after whoever did this.' He decided some levity might help. 'Wards are crowded enough as it is,' he said with a weak smile.
'We'd just like to see him, that's all,' Rebus assured him, patting the youngster's arm to reinforce the point.
'Then I'll see what I can do. You can wait here if you like.'
Rebus answered by sitting down again. They watched the doctor depart through the swing doors. But as the doors came to rest, a face appeared at one of their porthole-shaped windows.
'Oh, Christ,' Rebus said, alerting Clarke to the new arrivals – DI Calum Stone and DS Andy Prosser. 'This is where you tell them the whole story, Shiv. And if you don't, I will.' She nodded her understanding.
'Well, well,' Stone said, sauntering forward, hands in pockets.
'What brings you here, DI Rebus?'
'Same as you, I reckon,' Rebus replied, standing up again.
'So here we all are,' Stone continued, rocking back on his heels.
Tou to check if the victim still has a pulse, and us to start figuring out if we've just watched several thousand man-hours get flushed down the pan.'
'Shame you pulled the surveillance,' Rebus commented.
Stone's face grew red with rage. 'Because you wanted a meet!' He pointed towards Clarke. 'Got your girlfriend here to send us down to Granton.'
'I'm not denying it,' Rebus said quietly. 'I ordered DS Clarke to make that call.'
'And why would you do that?' Stone's eyes were drilling into Rebus's.
'Cafferty wanted to see me. Didn't say why, but I wasn't keen on having you lot in the vicinity.'
'Why not?'
'Because I'd have been on the lookout for you, wondering where you were hiding – Cafferty might have noticed; he's got pretty good antennae.'
'Not good enough to stop him getting whacked,' Prosser added.
Rebus couldn't disagree. 'I'm going to tell you what I told DS Clarke here,' he continued. 'If I was going to thump Cafferty, why would I tell anyone about the meeting? Either someone's setting me up, or we're talking about a coincidence.'
'A coincidence?'
Rebus shrugged. 'Someone planned to hit him anyway, just happened to coincide…'
Stone had turned to his partner. Tou buying any of this, Andy?'
Prosser shook his head slowly, and Stone turned back to Rebus.
'Andy doesn't buy it, and neither do I. You wanted Cafferty for
yourself, didn't like the thought of us nabbing him. Your gold watch is on the horizon, so you're pretty desperate. You go there to talk to him, and something happens… you lose it. Next thing he's sparked out and you're in trouble.'
'Except it didn't happen like that.'
'So what did happen?'
'We talked and I left him, went home and stayed there.'
'What was so urgent that he needed to see you?'
'Not a lot really.'
Prosser gave a little snort of disbelief, while Stone had a chuckle to himself. “You know, Rebus, that canal's not really a canal at all – not where you're concerned.'
'So what is it?'
'Shit creek,' Stone said triumphantly. Rebus turned his head towards Clarke.
'And they say vaudeville is dead.'
