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Authors: Ian Rankin

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BOOK: Even dogs in the wild
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The group shared a look. Compston sniffed and shifted a

little in his chair.

‘Five it is,’ he stated.

Fox noted that no ranks had been mentioned. It was clear

Compston was in charge, with Bell as his trusted lieutenant.

The others seemed like foot soldiers. If he had to guess, he’d

say they hadn’t known each other for any great length of time.

‘Whatever it is you’re up to, there’s a surveillance element,’

Fox said. ‘You’ll appreciate that surveillance used to be a big

part of my job, so that might be the one skill I have that’d be

useful to you.’

‘Okay, smart-arse, how did you work that out?’

Fox’s eyes met Compston’s and stayed there. ‘Selway is

“otherwise engaged”. Meantime Hughes is dressed so he

doesn’t stand out in certain situations. He looks fairly

comfortable, too, which means he’s done it before.’ Fox

paused. ‘How am I doing?’

‘Maxtone really didn’t tell you?’

Fox shook his head, and Compston took a deep breath.

‘You’ll have heard of Joseph Stark?’

‘Let’s pretend I haven’t.’

‘Your boss hadn’t heard of him either. Unbelievable.’

Compston made show of shaking his head. ‘Joe Stark is a

Glasgow gangster of long and ugly standing. He’s sixty-three

years old and not quite ready to pass the baton to his son—’

‘Dennis,’ Alec Bell interrupted. ‘Otherwise known as a

nasty little turd.’

‘With you so far,’ Fox said.

‘Joe and Dennis, along with some of their crew, have been

enjoying a wee road trip of late. Inverness first, then Aberdeen

and Dundee.’

‘And now they’re in Edinburgh?’

‘Been here a couple of days and don’t look like budging.’

‘And you’ve had them under surveillance throughout?’ Fox

surmised.

‘We want to know what they’re doing.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘We’ve got an inkling.’

‘Do I get to hear it?’

‘They might be looking for a guy called Hamish Wright.

He’s based in Inverness but has friends in Aberdeen,

Dundee . . .’

‘And here.’

‘I say “friends”, but contacts might be a better description.

Wright runs a haulage business, which means he has lorries

crossing to the Western Isles, Orkney and Shetland, even

Ireland and the Continent.’

‘Could be useful if there was something illegal that needed

distributing.’ A head-and-shoulders shot of Wright had been

handed to Fox. He studied the face. It was chubby and freckled

and topped by curly red hair. ‘Looks like a Hamish,’ he

commented.

‘Right.’

‘Would it be drugs he’s moving?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘For the Starks?’ Fox watched Compston nod. ‘So why

haven’t you busted him?’

‘We were about to.’

‘And we reckoned we’d take down Stark and his son too,’

Bell added. ‘But then Wright went AWOL.’

‘And Stark’s your best chance of finding him?’ Fox nodded

his understanding. ‘But why’s Stark so interested?’

‘There’ll be reasons,’ Compston said.

‘To do with money?’

‘Money and goods, yes.’

‘So where are Stark and his men? Who are they talking to?’

‘Right now, they’re in a café in Leith. They’re staying at a

bed and breakfast nearby.’

‘Bob Selway’s watching them?’

‘Until I relieve him in forty minutes,’ Peter Hughes broke in.

‘Reckon young Peter will blend in?’ Compston asked Fox.

‘We did wonder if these days he’d need one of those hipster

beards, seeing how Leith is going up in the world.’

‘Like he’s old enough to grow a beard,’ Alec Bell snorted.

Hughes made a single-digit gesture but looked as though

he’d heard all the jokes before. Fox could sense the team

softening a little. He wasn’t being accepted, but they were

ceasing to see him as an immediate threat.

‘So that’s where we are and why we’re here,’ Compston said

with a shrug. ‘And if you’ll let us get on with it, we’ll leave you

to your Angry Birds.’

But Fox had a question. ‘Stark and his men were in town last

night? What did they get up to?’

‘Dinner and a few drinks.’

‘You had eyes on them all evening?’

‘Pretty much. Why?’

Fox gave a twitch of the mouth. ‘You’ll have heard of

Morris Gerald Cafferty, known as Big Ger?’

‘Let’s pretend I haven’t.’

‘Unbelievable,’ Fox echoed. ‘He was a major player on the

east coast until recently. Similar age to your Joe Stark.’

‘And?’

‘Someone decided to take a potshot at him yesterday

evening around eight o’clock.’

‘Whereabouts?’

‘At his home. Shooter was outside, Cafferty was inside,

meaning it might have been a warning of some kind.’

Compston ran a hand across his jaw. ‘Interesting.’ He

looked to Alec Bell, who offered a shrug.

‘Seven till nine they were in the Abbotsford,’ Bell recited.

‘Drink at the bar, meal in the upstairs restaurant.’

‘And where were we?’

‘Peter was at the bar throughout.’

Hughes nodded his agreement. ‘Apart from a quick break for

a slash. But Beth was posted outside.’

‘At the end of Rose Street, not more than twenty yards

away,’ Beth Hastie confirmed.

‘Probably nothing to it then,’ Compston said, not quite

managing to sound as if he meant it. Then, to Fox: ‘Would your

man Cafferty have had dealings with the Starks?’

‘I can try to find out.’ Fox paused. ‘Always supposing

you’re willing to trust me that far.’

‘You know Cafferty to talk to?’

‘Yes.’ Fox managed not to blink.

‘You can bring up the Starks without him getting wind of

the surveillance?’

‘Absolutely.’

Compston looked at the other members of his team. ‘What

do we think?’

‘Risky,’ Hastie offered.

‘Agreed,’ Alec Bell muttered.

‘Fox is right about one thing, though,’ Compston said, rising

to his feet. ‘Starks hit town and almost immediately someone

fires a shot across the bows of the competition. Could well be a

message.’ His eyes were boring into Fox’s. ‘You reckon you’re

up to this?’

‘Yes.’

‘How will you do it?’

Fox shrugged. ‘We just chat. I’m pretty good at reading

people. If he suspects the Starks, he may let something slip.’ He

paused. ‘I’m assuming they’d have access to a gun?’

Alec Bell snorted.

‘I’ll take that as a yes.’ Then, to Compston: ‘So do I talk to

him or not?’

‘You don’t so much as hint at the surveillance.’

Fox nodded, then gestured towards the silent, cadaverous

figure of Jake Emerson. ‘Doesn’t say much, does he?’

‘Not in front of Complaints he doesn’t,’ Emerson sneered.

‘Scumbuckets, the lot of you.’

‘See?’ Compston said with a smile. ‘Jake keeps his counsel

mostly, but when he
does
speak, it’s always worth hearing.’ He held out a hand for Fox to take. ‘You’re on probation, but for

what it’s worth – welcome to Operation Junior.’

‘Junior?’

Compston gave a cold smile. ‘If you’re any kind of

detective, you’ll work it out,’ he said, releasing his grip.

Five

Fox stood on the pavement outside the four-storey tenement on

Arden Street and made the call, his eyes fixed on one of the

second-floor windows.

‘What do you want?’ Rebus’s voice asked.

‘You at home?’

‘Bowls game doesn’t start for another hour.’

‘Using your bus pass to get there?’

‘You’re sharper than you used to be – that’s what a spell in

CID does for you.’

‘Can I come up?’

Rebus’s face appeared at the window. ‘I was just nipping out

to the shop.’

‘I’ll walk with you. I thought we could talk about Cafferty.’

‘Why would we want to do that?’

‘I’ll tell you when you come down.’ Fox ended the call,

holding the phone away from him for effect. Rebus remained at

the window for a moment, then disappeared. Two minutes later,

wrapped in a three-quarter-length black woollen coat, he

emerged into the street, turning left and heading uphill, Fox at

his heels.

‘Before you ask, I’ve cut back,’ he informed Fox as he lifted

a cigarette from a near-empty packet.

‘Have you tried vaping?’

‘I hate that word.’

‘Have you, though?’

‘A couple of times. It’s just not the same.’ Rebus stopped

briefly to get the cigarette lit. ‘There’s some news on Cafferty?’

‘Not exactly.’

Rebus looked at Fox for the first time since coming out of

the tenement. ‘So I’m here under false pretences?’ He started

walking again.

‘Do the names Joe and Dennis Stark mean anything to you?’

‘Joe’s an old-time Glasgow thug. His son didn’t fall far from

the tree.’

‘Ever had dealings with either of them?’

‘No.’

‘Might Cafferty?’

‘Almost certainly. You couldn’t have one city tramping on

the other’s turf, not without war breaking out.’

‘So there’d have been powwows between the two?’

‘And their equivalents in Aberdeen, maybe Dundee . . .’

‘That’s interesting.’

‘Why?’

‘Because the Starks visited both those places recently.’

‘What’s your thinking, Malcolm?’ Rebus glanced in Fox’s

direction. ‘And by the way, are you and Siobhan sleeping

together?’

‘Would it bother you if we were?’

‘I’ll always look out for her. Anyone hurts her, it’ll be me

they answer to.’

‘She’s an adult, John. She might even be tougher than either

you or me.’

‘Maybe, but just so you know.’

‘We’re friends – that’s as far as it goes.’

They had turned the corner at the top of the street. There was

a Sainsbury’s across the road, and Rebus stopped by its door,

taking a final couple of drags on his cigarette before stubbing it

out.

‘Didn’t even smoke the whole thing,’ he said. ‘Be sure and

tell her that. You never did answer my question.’

Fox followed him into the shop. ‘What question?’

‘Why do you want to know about the Starks?’

‘They arrived in town a couple of days back. Just wondered

if there might be a reason for them to target Cafferty.’

Rebus’s eyes narrowed as he picked up a basket. He was

silent while they perused the first aisle. Instant coffee, a small

loaf, a litre of milk, packets of link sausages and bacon. As they

passed by the wine and beer, Rebus gestured with his free hand.

‘Tell her I didn’t buy a single can or bottle.’

At the counter, however, he added a fresh pack of cigarettes

to his purchases, along with a sausage roll from the hotplate.

‘A man has to have
some
vices,’ he said as they made for the

exit. Outside, he slid the first inch from its paper bag and took a

bite. Flecks of pastry broke off and peppered the lapels of his

coat.

‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.

Fox slipped his hands into his pockets, hunching his

shoulders against the stiff breeze. ‘Would Cafferty talk to me

about the Starks?’

‘You think Joe Stark is responsible for last night?’

‘Maybe the son. Revenge for some grievance.’

‘I’m not sure Dennis would have missed. He’ll have had a

bit of practice down the years.’

‘So it was a warning of some kind, somebody trying to put

the wind up Cafferty. You have to admit, it’s odd how this

happens the day after the Starks hit town.’

‘There is that,’ Rebus conceded. ‘But say we mention as

much to Cafferty . . .’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, he might want to explore the possibility.’

‘He might,’ Fox agreed.

‘And that could get ugly.’

Fox was nodding slowly as Rebus chewed on another

mouthful of food. When the chewing stopped, replaced by a

widening smile, Fox knew he’d done his job.

Lunchtime, and the Golden Rule was almost empty. The main

bar was connected by a set of steps to a larger seated area that

boasted another bar, only open when the place got busy. They

had this room to themselves. Cafferty looked comfortable,

seated at a corner table well away from the window. He had a

double whisky in front of him. Rebus carried a pint through,

while Fox, a couple of steps behind him, brought nothing at all.

‘Malcolm Fox, isn’t it?’ Cafferty reached out a hand, which

Fox shook. ‘Out of the Complaints these days, I hear. I suppose

with John heading into the wilderness, you felt the job had lost

any sense of challenge.’ He toasted both men and took a sip

from his glass.

‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me,’ Fox said.

‘It’s not you I’m meeting, son – it’s your ex-colleague.

Always worth finding out what’s going on in that head of his.’

‘Be that as it may . . .’

Cafferty was flapping one hand, signalling for Fox to stop.

There was silence around the table, broken only by the sounds

of the TV from the distant bar. Eventually Rebus put down his

glass and spoke.

‘A shot was fired at you last night – we all know it. Most of

your obvious enemies are long gone—’

‘Present company excepted,’ Cafferty interrupted, making

another toast.

‘But then DI Fox discovers that Joe Stark is in town, along

with his son.’

‘They’ve not sectioned Dennis yet?’ Cafferty feigned

surprise.

‘We’re wondering if there’s any possible connection,’ Rebus

BOOK: Even dogs in the wild
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