we have to play this sort of thing. It isn't nice necessarily, but it means we don't get it wrong.'
'That's quite a speech.'
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 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 him.'
'Fortunate creature,' said Cousins.
'And,' continued Flight, 'one of the … people helping us on the case this morning received a letter claiming to be from the Wolfman.'
'Good God.'
'We think it's kosher,' Flight concluded.
'Well,' said Cousins, 'this is something. Wait till I tell Penny. She'll be thrilled.'
'Philip, we don't want it getting out — '
'Not a word, George, not a word. You know it's all one-way traffic with me But Penny should be told.'
'Oh, tell Isobel by all means,' said Flight, 'only warn her it's not to go any further.'
'Total secrecy,' said Cousins. I quite understand. Mum's the word. Who was it, by the way?' Flight appeared not to understand. 'To whom was this threatening letter addressed?'
Flight was about to speak, but Rebus beat him to it. 'Just someone on the case, as Inspector Flight says.' He smiled, trying to alleviate the brusqueness of his response. Oh yes, his mind was working now, working in a fever nobody had told Cousins the letter was threatening, so how did he know it was? Okay, it was simple enough to work out that it wouldn't exactly have been fan mail, but all the same.
'Well then,' said Cousins, choosing not to press for details. 'And now gentlemen,' he scooped up two manila files from the desk and tucked them under his arm, then stood, the joints of his knees cracking with the effort, 'if you'll excuse me, Court Eight awaits. Inspector Rebus,' Cousins held out his free hand, 'it sounds as though the case may be drawing towards its conclusion. Should we fail to meet again, give my regards to your delightful city.' He turned to Flight. 'See you soon, George. Bring Marion round for supper some evening. Give Penny a tinkle and we'll try to find one night in the calendar when all four of us are free. Goodbye.'
'Bye, Philip.'
'Goodbye.'
'Goodbye.'
'Oh.'. Cousins had stopped in the doorway.. 'There is just one thing.' He turned pleading eyes on Flight,'You don't have a spare driver, do you, George? It's going to be hell getting a taxi at this time of day.'
.'Well,' Flight thought hard, then had an idea, 'if you can hang on for a couple of minutes, Philip, I've got a couple of men here in the building.' He turned to. Rebus, whose eyes had widened. 'Lisa won't mind, will she, John? I mean, if her car drops Philip off at the Old Bailey?'
Rebus could do little but shrug.
'Excellent' said Cousins, clasping his hands together. 'Thank you so much.'
'I'll take you to, them,' Flight said. 'But first I need to make a phone call.'
Cousins nodded towards the corridor. 'And I must visit the WC. Be back-in a tick.'
