let the team know about it.’ Getting drunk meant getting out of control and when that happened, mistakes were made. Brennan couldn’t afford mistakes in his position. Mistakes were for people like Lauder; he’d make one soon enough, and when he did Brennan was going to be there to roast his balls over a hot spit.
‘You’ll have heard the good news, then?’ said McGuire.
‘About Her Majesty?’
‘Yeah… Think that’s her official title now, isn’t it?’
‘She fucking thinks it is already.’
‘Still, better for us if she’s sweet. And she’ll be off to the top floor… Slim chance of us bumping into her.’
‘She’s not off yet.’
‘True. And neither are we.’
Brennan brought his pint up to his mouth again, sipped, lowered it. ‘We still have some moves.’ He looked at the glass in McGuire’s hand. ‘How many of those have you had?’
He jutted his jaw. ‘Two. This is my third.’
Brennan took it out of his hand. ‘Get yourself an orange juice.’
‘What? I thought I was off duty.’
‘You are… And I’d like it to stay that way for both of us, so orange juice for you tonight.’
‘Yes, sir.’ McGuire slumped off.
‘And I told you about that before.’
A nod, thin smile, paired with a wink.
Brennan walked over to the table where Lauder and Bryce sat. He took his pint with him and put it down as he greeted them. Bryce stood up. ‘Sit down, Brycey,’ said Brennan. ‘Just coming over to give my best to the team.’
Lauder looked away, sneering. He picked up a glass and tipped it back; the ends of his moustache caught stray static around the rim as he lowered his drink. ‘Very kind of you, Rob. I’ll be sure to bear it in mind when I’m making up the duty roster next week.’
Laughter rung out around the table. Brennan looked at Bryce, who seemed embarrassed; he was a good enough sort, but Lauder was digging a grave for himself.
Brennan picked up his pint again. ‘Don’t get too cocky now, Ian. There’s a bit of time left before you get your feet under the table.’
Lauder smoothed down the edges of his moustache. ‘You’re joking, aren’t you?… Expecting to clean it up on the weekend?’
‘Stranger things have happened.’
‘Not fucking many. I think you’re delusional, son. We want to get that Fuller woman a more powerful torch to shine in your ear.’
A couple of sneers turned to laughter, but most stayed quiet around the table now. Lauder had stepped over the line; Brennan knew it and so did everyone else. Bryce got out of his seat. ‘Come on, Rob, I’ll get you a drink.’
Brennan put a cold eye on Lauder as he turned for the bar. His pulse kicked, adrenaline spiked, but he had mastered keeping those out of sight long ago.
‘Sorry about Ian,’ said Bryce. ‘He’s a prick sometimes.’
‘Just sometimes?’
‘Well, most of the time. Look, don’t let him get to you, eh.’
Brennan touched the detective’s elbow. ‘It’s fine, Brycey. Go and enjoy your night. You had a good result, the boys deserve it.’
Bryce returned to the table and McGuire approached, orange juice in hand. ‘What was all that about?’
‘That?… Nothing at all.’
Brennan took another sip from his pint and watched an exchange of words between Bryce and Lauder; there seemed to be a disagreement. Brennan wished he could place money on the outcome. Lauder got out of his seat and picked his drink up from the table. A beer mat stuck to the base of the glass as he quaffed the last few swallows. The mat hung on for a few seconds then floated to the floor. Lauder slammed down the glass and stomped for the door. Bryce raised his hands in mock defiance but he was flagged down.
‘Right, Stevie, you ready to roll?’ said Brennan.
‘What? I just got this orange juice — two fucking quid it cost.’
‘I’ll buy you one later, come on.’
Brennan followed Lauder out onto the street. He watched him get into his car and put his phone to his ear.
‘You parked nearby, Stevie?’
‘Yeah, back of the pictures.’
‘Right, get your car. Stay in contact on the phone, not on the radio.’
McGuire looked at Brennan, turned his cheek away. ‘What’s going on here?’
‘Just do it, eh. And hurry up. I’m over there so I’ll be on his bumper. I’ll phone to let you know where he goes. If I think he might have picked me up, I’ll hand over to you. Okay?’
‘Yes, fine.’
‘Good. Now move it. We don’t want to lose him before he gets rolling.’
Brennan dashed across the road and got into the Passat — the car started first time. He watched for a moment for the traffic to clear and then turned the vehicle round in the street. He was sitting in the road, three or four cars back, as Lauder pulled out.
Brennan took out his phone as he drove, placed it in the hands-free cradle on the dash and called McGuire.
‘Stevie, that’s me following behind Lauder now. He’s heading out towards London Road…’
‘Right, I’m not too far behind you — just at the junction, waiting for a break.’
‘Fine. I’ll keep you tuned in.’
Brennan followed Lauder down London Road, through two sets of traffic lights, and one set of roadworks. Council contractors had earlier removed diseased trees from the London Road Gardens and loaded them into a truck bed that sat in the road, cutting the four lanes to two. Lothian Buses were tailed back all the way to the junction with Easter Road and the driver at the front of the queue looked ready to ram the bus into the truck bed.
Brennan kept an eye on Lauder’s car; he seemed to be slowing down. ‘Stevie, think he’s pulling up.’
‘Right. Where are you?’
‘Just at the minimart on the corner. I’m going to pass him — can you take over? He’s getting out now.’
‘Yes, sure. I’ll stop in the bus lane till he moves off again. Stay on the line.’
‘Will do.’
Brennan drove down to the Sainsbury’s at the end of the road, turned in the car park and headed back in the opposite direction. He was behind a yellow Hyundai as Lauder got back into his car, pulled out.
‘He’s on the move again, sir.’
‘I see him.’
‘Okay. I’ll stay with him. He’s turning at the lights, going up the hill towards Regent Road.’
Brennan waited for the two cars to pass and swung out in pursuit. He could see McGuire’s navy Golf sitting a car behind Lauder; as the indicators came on he was already altering his road position.
‘Turning for Calton Hill, now, sir.’
‘Stay on him.’
As the cars snaked onto the access road behind the old Royal High, Brennan looked out into the park. It was darker than he thought; pitch black. The lights from the cars lit the gravel road ahead but there was little moonlight up above. As Lauder turned to the left, drove past the Monument and headed for the car park, Brennan told McGuire to pull back.
‘Right, ease up, Stevie. Let him get parked.’
McGuire pulled the Golf into the grass verge. Brennan followed behind him, got out and ran towards the driver’s door.
‘What’s he up to?’ said Brennan.
‘Search me. Scouting for a fucking rent boy?’
