and already. I know how to find you when I want you.
Do you think' Tommy can't? You think maybe he'll lay off? No, he's going to nail your head to the wall!
'Don't talk daft.' Now that he was dressed, having pulled on. a black T-shirt, Kenny's voice had lost some of its trembling. But he couldn't hide the look in his eyes, the haunted, hunted look. Rebus decided to make it easy for him. He reached into a pocket and brought out a packet of cigarettes, offered one to Kenny and lit it for him before taking one himself. He rubbed at his stomach. Jesus, it was hurting. He hoped the stitches were holding.
`You've been ripping him off,' Rebus said casually. `He handled stolen goods, you were his courier, passing it down the chain. But you've been skimming a little off the top, haven't you? And with each job you'd take a little more than he knew about. Why? Saving for that Docklands flat? So you could start your own business? Maybe you got greedy, I don't know. But Tommy got suspicious. You were in court that day because you wanted to see him go down. It was the only thing that could have saved you. When he didn't, you still tried putting one over on him, yelling out from the public gallery. But by then it was only a matter of time. And when you heard that the case had been dropped altogether, well, you knew he'd come straight after you. So you ran. You didn't run far enough, Kenny.'
Unknown
`What's it to you?' The words were angry. But it was the anger that came of fear. It wasn't directed at Rebus. He was merely the messenger.
`Just this,' Rebus said calmly, `keep away from Sammy. Don't ever go near her again, don't even try to talk to her. In fact, your best bet right now is to get on a train or a bus or whatever and get the hell out of London. Don't worry, we'll pin Tommy for something sooner or later. Then maybe you can come back.' He had slipped a hand into his pocket again. It came out holding a fold of ten pound notes, four of which he peeled off and threw onto the mattress.
`I'm offering you a one-way ticket, and I'm suggesting you take it right now, this morning.'
The eyes and voice were wary. 'You're not going to take me in?'
`Why should I?’
The smile this time was more confident still. He looked at the money. `It's just family, Rebus. That's all. I can take care of myself.'
`Can you?' Rebus nodded, taking in the room with its peeling wallpaper and boarded-up window, the mattress with its single rumpled sheet. `Fair enough.' He turned to go.
`It wasn't just me, you know.'
Rebus stopped but didn't turn. `What?' He tried not to sound interested.
`There was a copper, too. He was on a cut from the robberies.'
Rebus sucked in air. Did he need to know? Did he want to know? Kenny Watkiss didn't give him the choice.
`A detective called Lamb,' he said. Rebus exhaled silently, but, saying nothing, showing nothing, walked back out of the flat and, pulling open the lift doors, kicking away the milk bottle, pressed the button for the ground floor and waited for the slow descent.
Outside the block, he paused to stub out his cigarette. He rubbed at his stomach again. Stupid not to have brought the painkillers with him. From the corner of his eye, he could see the unmarked transit van in the car park. Six forty-five. There could be a perfectly rational explanation for it, for the fact that two men sat stonily in its front seats. They might be about to go to work, mightn't they?
In fact, Rebus knew damned fine that's what they were doing. And he had another choice now. He could let them go to work, or he could stop them. It took him another second or two to decide, but finally, with a picture of Samantha's face in his head, he walked across nonchalantly to the van and, the men still ignoring his existence, thumped hard on the passenger-side window. The passen?ger looked at him with undisguised enmity, but, seeing that Rebus was undeterred, rolled down the window.
`Yeah?'
Rebus stuck his ID so far into the man's face that the plastic coating brushed against his nose.
`Police, he snapped. `Now get the fuck out of here. And tell Tommy Watkiss we've got his nephew under twenty-four hour watch. Anything happens, we'll know where to come and who to charge.' Rebus stood back and looked carefully at the man. `Think you can remember all that, or do you want me to write it down?'
The passenger was growling audibly as he rolled the window back up. The driver was already starting the van. As it began to move off, Rebus gave its side a farewell kick. Maybe Kenny would leave and maybe he'd stay. It was up to him. Rebus had, given him a chance. Whether the young man took it or not was out of Rebus's hands.
`Like Pontius Pilate,' he mumbled to himself as he made for the main road. Standing by a lamppost, waiting and praying for a black cab to come along, he saw Kenny Watkiss emerge from the flats, a duffel-bag slung across his shoulder, and, looking around him, start to jog towards the far end of the estate. Rebus nodded to himself. `That's my boy,' he said, as, with protesting brakes, a cab slowed to a halt beside him.
You're in luck mate,' said the driver. `I'm just starting my shift.' Rebus, clambered in and gave the name of his hotel, then settled back, enjoying the city at this quiet hour. The driver, though, was in practice for the day ahead.
`Here,' he said, `did you hear about that rumpus yesterday at Trafalgar Square? I was in a queue for an hour and a half. I mean, I'm all for law and order, but there must've been another way of going about it, mustn't there?' John Rebus shook his head and laughed.
His suitcase sat closed on the bed beside the little-used briefcase and the bag of books. He was squeezing the last few items, into his sports bag when there was a soft tapping at his door.
`Come in.'
She did. She was wearing a solid-foam neck-brace, but grinned it away.
`Isn't it stupid? They want me to wear, it for the next few days, but I—' She saw the cases on, the bed. `You're not leaving already?'
Rebus nodded. `I came here to help with the Wolfman case. The Wolfman case is finished.'
