was staring hard at Lauderdale. ‘It also just happened that none of the other cons knew what McAnally was in for. It was rape, by the way. Of a minor. Now, Frank, what does all that tell you?’ Lauderdale said nothing. ‘What it tells me,’ Rebus went on, ‘is that there was collusion at the top to stop the other cons getting to know.’
‘Give me some water, will you?’
Rebus poured some for Lauderdale. ‘Why would anyone do that?’ Lauderdale asked, taking the beaker.
‘There could be a multitude of reasons. Let me try one on you: say McAnally was in there as a plant.’
Lauderdale took his time drinking the water. ‘A plant?’ he said at last.
‘Either to spy on Charters, or else to gain his trust. Now,’ Rebus pulled his chair closer, not that Lauderdale was going anywhere, ‘the reason Charters is inside is for fraud, and he was put inside by the Fraud Unit. Leading the investigation was Chief Superintendent Allan Gunner, now deputy chief constable. It so happens the DCC was the one who fixed me up with this lovely holiday. He threatened the Farmer with an HMIC inspection if I wasn’t reined in.’
‘He should have known better.’ Lauderdale paused. ‘But HMIC is an independent body, how could the DCC have control over their decisions?’
It was, Rebus conceded, a good point. The people who ran HMIC were civil servants rather than police officers.
‘Well, anyway,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘it
‘Other officers might have taken the hint, John.’
‘Not me. Now, on that initial investigation of Charters were at least two officers of my acquaintance: yourself and Alister Flower. And Flower’s been warning me off, too. Which makes for a nice little circle, don’t you think, Frank?’
‘Why come to me?’
‘Maybe because you’re the only person I can try. Maybe because, despite myself, I almost trust you. I mean, you’re a schemer, a chancer, and you’d like the Farmer’s office. But at heart you’re a copper.’ Rebus paused. ‘Same as me. So come on, Frank, tell me about McAnally.’
‘I can’t.’ Lauderdale saw the look on Rebus’s face. ‘I can’t, because there’s nothing to tell. You’re right, I did work on the Albavise inquiry, but that’s as far as it goes. I know this, though: if you’re crossing not only Flower but the likes of the DCC and Big Jim Flett, then you’d better watch out.’
‘I think it goes further than that even,’ Rebus confided. ‘The Scottish Office, maybe even MPs or ministers.’
‘Christ, John,’ Lauderdale whispered.
Rebus stood up. ‘So maybe as you’re packing your bags to go home, they’ll be wheeling me in to take your place.’
‘Don’t joke about it.’
‘Who said I was joking?’
‘And don’t tell me any more. The less I know the better.’
‘For you or for me?’
Lauderdale sat up as best he could. ‘Let it go,’ he advised. ‘For once in your dunder-headed life, just walk away.’
Rebus put the chair back where he’d found it. ‘I can’t do that, Frank.’ He pushed his tongue into the hole again. The poison hadn’t all drained yet.
‘Take care of yourself,’ he told Lauderdale.
‘That should probably be my line.’
Rebus was halfway down the ward when he heard Lauderdale calling for him. He walked back to the bed. Lauderdale had propped himself up and was staring out of the window.
‘Flower,’ he said, not turning to look at Rebus.
‘What about him, Frank?’
‘McAnally was Flower’s eyes and ears.’
‘His snitch?’
Lauderdale nodded, eyes still on the window.
‘I appreciate this,’ said Rebus, turning away again.
‘I hope you do, John,’ Frank Lauderdale said quietly.
There was an envelope lying on the hall carpet. The post had already been; this had been delivered by hand: no stamp, just his name in blue ink. There was an embossed official crest on the sealed flap — the lion and the unicorn holding a shield between them. Rebus knew it was the Scottish Office crest. He flexed the envelope in his hands. It was thin and light, yet fairly solid. Leaving it on the arm of the chair, he went to the kitchen and added tap-water to a glass of whisky. He found a knife in the drawer, and took both glass and knife back through to the chair. He took a mouthful of whisky before slitting open the envelope.
It was a white card, an invitation, elaborate black embossed script with a gold border.
Sir lain Hunter
requests the pleasure of your company
Saturday 4 March
Ruthie Estate Twelve Noon Perthshire
Rebus’s name had been added in blue ink at the top of the card. There was no RSVP, just an address, and no telephone number. Rebus turned the card over and saw that it bore a printed map showing the location of the estate, about halfway between Perth and Auchterarder. Saturday was only two days off.
Rebus carried the invitation to his mantelpiece and leaned it against the otherwise bare wall. The only estate he’d ever been to before was the housing kind. He didn’t suppose Ruthie Estate would be very like those at all.
Rebus was still wondering if he’d go or not when he set out for his evening session at the Ox.
Dr Klasser wasn’t there. He’d telephoned to say he’d be very late, if he made it at all. The barman placed Rebus’s pint in front of him, just as Salty Dougary walked in.
‘It’s bitter out there,’ Dougary said.
‘But it’s called eighty-shilling in here. Go on, Jon, pour the man his poison.’
Dougary eased himself on to the barstool next to Rebus. ‘I’ve got something for you.’
‘What?’
‘Remember you asked me about Mensung?’
Yes, Rebus remembered. He’d asked Rory McAllister too, only McAllister had been warned off; Rebus doubted he’d ever hear from him again.
‘What about it?’
‘I’ve remembered what it was,’ Dougary said matter-of-factly. His drink had appeared, and he ordered some crisps.
‘So what is it?’ Rebus asked.
‘Salt and vinegar, Jon,’ Dougary told the barman. The volume on the TV was being turned up for some sports report. Dougary turned to Rebus. ‘It was a company.’ He took a mouthful of beer. ‘And a packet of ready salted,’ he told the barman.
‘Did you say a company?’
‘Eh?’ Dougary’s attention was already turning towards the TV. Rebus hauled him off the stool and out of the door, into the chill, dark street. Traffic rumbled past on Castle Street.
‘It’s freezing out here!’ Dougary protested.
‘Just tell me.’ Dougary looked longingly towards the pub door. ‘Tell me here,’ Rebus persisted.
‘Remember when I worked for that semiconductor company?’
