Flight sighed and examined the tips of his shoes. `Look, John, has it ever occurred to you that there might be another way?'
`The way of Zen perhaps?'
'I mean, a way other than your own. Or are the rest of us just thick, and you're the only policeman on the planet who knows how to solve a crime? I'd be interested to know.'
Rebus desperately did not want to blush, which is probably precisely why he did blush. He tried to think of a smart answer, but none came to mind right that second, so he kept silent. Flight nodded approval.
'Let's find that phone,' he said. Now Rebus found the courage he needed.
`George,' he said. `I need to know: who brought me here?'
Flight stared 'at him, wondering whether or not to answer. He pursed his lips as he, thought about it, and came up with an answer: what, the hell.
`I did,' he said. `It was my idea.'
'You?' Rebus seemed puzzled. Flight nodded confirmation.
`Yes, me. ' I suggested you to Laine and Pearson. A new head, fresh blood, that sort of thing.'
`But how in God's name did you know about me?'
`Well,' Flight was beginning to look sheepish. He made a play of `examining the, tips of his shoes again. `Remember I showed you that file, the one with all the guesswork in it? On top of that I did some background, reading on multiple murderers. Research, you could call it And I came across that case of yours in some newspaper clippings from Scotland Yard. I was impressed.'
Rebus pointed a disbelieving finger. `You were reading up on serial killers?'
Flight nodded.
`On the psychology of serial killers?'
Flight shrugged. `And other aspects, yes.' Rebus's eyes had widened.
`And all this time you've been having a dig at me, for going along with Lisa Frazer's—no, I don't believe it!’
Flight was laughing again. The apparently arch anti-psychologist revealed in his true light. `I had to examine every angle,' he said, watching as Rebus, having finished his coffee, tossed the cup into a waste-bin. `Now come on, we really should make that phone call.'
Rebus was still shaking his head as he followed Flight down the hall. But though he appeared to be in good humour, his brain was more active than ever. Flight had pulled the wool over, his eyes with consummate ease. How far did the pretence actually stretch? Was he now seeing the real Flight, or yet another mask? Flight whistled as he walked and kicked at an imaginary football. No, not George Flight, Rebus decided in an instant: never George Flight,
There was a telephone in the admin offices. There was also, seated at a desk having a conversation with one of the senior staff, Philip Cousins, immaculate in grey suit and burgundy tie.
`Philip!
`Hello there, George. How are things?' Cousins spotted Rebus. `And Inspector Rebus, too. Still lending a Caledonian hand?'
`Trying,' said Rebus.
`Yes, very,' rejoined Flight. 'So. what brings you here, Philip? Where's Isobel?'
`Penny's rather tied up, I'm afraid. She'll be sorry to have missed you, George. As for my presence here, I just wanted to double-check some facts on a murder case from last December. You might remember it, the man in the bathtub.'
'The one that looked like suicide?'
`That's right.' Philip Cousins's voice ? HYPERLINK “http://was.as/”??was as? rich and slow as double cream. Rebus reckoned that the word `urbane' had been invented with him in mind. 'I'm in court later today,' Cousins was saying, `Trying to help Malcolm Chambers pin the deceased's wife for manslaughter at the very least.'
`Chambers?' Flight shook his head. `I don't envy you that.'
`But surely,' Rebus interrupted, `you'll be on the same side?'
`Ah yes, Inspector Rebus,' said Cousins, `you are quite correct. But Chambers is such a scrupulous man. He'll want my evidence to be water-tight, and if it isn't, then he's as likely to undo me as is the defence counsel. More likely, in fact. Malcolm Chambers is interested in the truth, not in verdicts.'
`Yes, said Flight, `I remember him having a right go at me once in the witness box, all because I couldn't recall offhand what kind of clock had been in the living-room. The case nearly crumbled there and then.' Flight and Cousins shared a comradely smile.
`I've just been hearing,' said Cousins, `that there's fresh evidence on the Wolfman case. Do tell.'
'It's beginning to come together, Philip,' said Flight. `It's definitely beginning to come together, due in no small part to my associate here.' Flight laid a momentary hand on Rebus's shoulder.
`I'm impressed,' said Cousins, sounding neither impressed nor unimpressed.
`It was luck,'' said Rebus, as he felt he ought. Not that he believed what he was saying. Cousins's eyes on him were like packs of ice, so that the room temperature seemed to drop with every glance.
`So what do we have?'
`Well,' said Flight, 'we've got someone who claims she was attacked by the Wolfman but escaped from
