‘The name’s not James,’ he said.
‘Of course it is. Everybody’s called James. Makes it easier to remember a name, even if you can’t recall the face.’
‘I see.’
The boy finished the cigarette in silence, then flicked it out of the window.
‘So what’s it to be?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Rebus sincerely. ‘A drive maybe?’
‘Fuck that.’ He paused, seeming to change his mind. ‘Okay, let’s drive to the top of Calton Hill. Take a look out over the water, eh?’
‘Fine,’ said Rebus, starting the car.
They drove up the steep and winding road to the top of the hill, where the observatory and the folly — a copy of one side of Greece’s Parthenon — sat silhouetted against the sky. They were not alone at the top. Other darkened cars had parked, facing across the Firth of Forth towards the dimly lit coast of Fife. Rebus, trying not to look too closely at the other cars, decided to park at a discreet distance from them, but the boy had other ideas.
‘Stop next to that Jag,’ he ordered. ‘What a great-looking car.’
Rebus felt his own car take the insult with as much pride as it could muster. The brakes squealed in protest as he pulled to a halt. He turned off the ignition.
‘What now?’ he asked.
‘Whatever you want,’ said the boy. ‘Cash on delivery, of course.’
‘Of course. What if we just talk?’
‘Depends on the kind of talk you want. The dirtier it is, the more it’ll cost.’
‘I was just thinking about a guy I met here once. Not so long ago. Haven’t seen him around. I was wondering what happened to him.’
The boy suddenly placed his hand on Rebus’s crotch, rubbing hard and fast against the material. Rebus stared at the hand for a full second before calmly, but with a deliberate grip, removing it. The boy grinned, leaning back in his seat.
‘What’s his name, James?’
Rebus tried to stop himself trembling. His stomach was filling with bile. ‘Ronnie,’ he said at last, clearing his throat. ‘Not too tall. Dark hair, quite short. Used to take a few pictures. You know, keen on photography.’
The boy’s eyebrows rose. ‘You’re a photographer, are you? Like to take a few snaps? I see.’ He nodded slowly. Rebus doubted that he did see, but wasn’t about to say more than was necessary. And yes, that Jag was nice. New-looking. Paintwork brightly reflective. Someone with a bit of money. And dear God why did he have an erection?
‘I think I know which Ronnie you mean now,’ said the boy. ‘I haven’t seen him around much myself.’
‘So what can you tell me about him?’
The boy was staring out of the windscreen again. ‘Great view from here, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘Even at night. Especially at night. Amazing. I hardly ever come here in the daytime. It all looks so ordinary. You’re a copper, aren’t you?’
Rebus looked towards him, but the boy was still staring out of the windscreen, smiling, unconcerned.
‘Thought you were,’ he went on. ‘Right from the start.’
‘So why did you get in the car?’
‘Curious, I suppose. Besides,’ and now he looked towards Rebus, ‘some of my best customers are officers of the law.’
‘Well, that’s none of my concern.’
‘No? It should be. I’m underage, you know.’
‘I guessed.’
‘Yeah, well….’ The boy slumped in his seat, putting his feet up on the dashboard. For a moment, Rebus thought he was about to do something, and jerked himself upright. But the boy just laughed.
‘What did you think? Think I was going to touch you again? Eh? No such luck, James.’
‘So what about Ronnie?’ Rebus wasn’t sure whether he wanted to punch this rather ugly little kid in the gut, or take him to a good and a caring home. But he knew, above all, that he wanted answers.
‘Give me another ciggie.’ Rebus obliged. ‘Ta. Why are you so interested in him?’
‘Because he’s dead.’
‘Happens all the time.’
‘He overdosed.’
‘Ditto.’
‘The stuff was lethal.’
The boy was silent for a moment.
‘Now that is bad news.’
‘Has there been any poisoned stuff going around recently?’
‘No.’ He smiled again. ‘Only good stuff. Got any on you?’ Rebus shook his head, thinking:
‘What’s your name, by the way?’
‘No names, James, and no pack drill.’ He put out his hand, palm up. ‘I need some money.’
‘I need some answers first.’
‘So give me the questions. But first, a little goodwill, eh?’ The hand was still there, expectant as any father- to-be. Rebus found a crumpled tenner in his jacket and handed it over. The boy seemed satisfied. ‘This gets you the answers to two questions.’
Rebus’s anger ignited. ‘It gets me as many answers as I want, or so help me — ’
‘Rough trade? That your game?’ The boy seemed unconcerned. Maybe he’d heard it all before. Rebus wondered.
‘Is there much rough stuff goes on?’ he asked.
‘Not much.’ the boy paused. ‘But still too much.’
‘Ronnie was into it, wasn’t he?’
‘That’s your second question,’ stated the boy. ‘And the answer is, I don’t know.’
‘Don’t knows don’t count,’ said Rebus. ‘And I’ve got plenty of questions left.’
‘Okay, if that’s the way — ’ The boy was reaching for the door handle, ready to walk away from it all. Rebus grabbed him by the neck and brought his head down against the dashboard, right between where both feet were still resting.
‘Jesus Christ!’ The boy checked for blood on his forehead. There was none. Rebus was pleased with himself: maximum shock, minimum visible damage. ‘You can’t — ’
‘I can do anything I like, son, and that includes tipping you over the edge of the highest point in the city. Now tell me about Ronnie.’
‘I can’t tell you about Ronnie.’ There were tears in his eyes now. He rubbed at his forehead, trying to erase the hurt. ‘I didn’t know him well enough.’
‘So tell me what you do know.’
‘Okay, okay.’ He sniffed, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his jacket. ‘All I know is that a few friends of mine have gotten into a scene.’
‘What scene?’
‘I don’t know. Something heavy. They don’t talk about it, but the marks are there. Bruises, cuts. One of them ended up in the Infirmary for a week. Said he fell down the stairs. Christ, he looked like he fell down a whole high- rise.’
‘But nobody’s talking?’
‘There must be good money in it somewhere.’
‘Anything else?’
‘It may not be important….’ The kid had broken. Rebus could hear it in his voice. He’d talk from now till judgment day. Good: Rebus didn’t have too many ears in this part of the city. A fresh pair might make all the difference.
