Even dogs in the wild (9 page)

do?’

‘This is no place for a civilian, Rebus,’ Compston said.

‘War breaks out in the city, it’s bad for everyone, whether

in a uniform or not. If you’re watching the Starks, you know

the score. They
might
be readying to take down Darryl

Christie.’

‘That’s not why they’re here,’ Alec Bell let slip, receiving a

withering look from Compston in response.

‘Darryl thinks it is. He’s got it into his head that they’re

coming for him, stoked up by Cafferty.’

‘They’ve met neither Cafferty nor this Darryl Christie,’

Compston stated.

‘So Dennis isn’t being introduced to low society?’ Rebus

scratched his cheek. ‘You sure about that?’

‘We’ve got our eyes and ears on them.’

‘One of them didn’t happen to mosey over to Cafferty’s

neck of the woods last night and point a gun at him?’

‘We don’t think so.’

‘There may have been gaps in the surveillance,’ Fox piped

up. ‘Just about big enough to make it a possibility.’

‘I’m wishing now I’d stuck you in a corner with that fucking

Angry Birds game,’ Compston snarled, jumping to his feet and

pacing the room.

‘For what it’s worth,’ Rebus said, ‘Malcolm didn’t tell me a

single thing about the operation here, and nothing he said in

front of either Cafferty or Christie will have made them any the

wiser.’

‘
You
found out, though.’

Rebus shook his head. ‘He got me curious, that’s all.’ He

glanced at the clock on the wall. ‘Now, how about letting me

drag you across the road for a drink? It’s not the worst boozer

in town, and I’m betting no one’s had the decency to wet the

team’s head, as it were.’

‘We’re supposed to be waiting for the lads to report in,’ Bell

cautioned.

Compston thought for a moment. ‘Won’t do any harm,

though, will it? No more than has already been wreaked by DI

Fox. You can man the post here if you like, Alec.’

‘Strength in numbers, Ricky – I better come with you.’

‘It’s unanimous, then.’ Rebus eased himself off the desk.

‘Lead the way, DI Fox – it’s your round, after all.’

The pub was half full of workers on their way home and

students playing games of chess and draughts. There being no

free tables, the group made for the far end of the bar. Fox

bought the drinks – three pints and a sparkling water.

‘If I’d known you didn’t drink,’ Compston admonished

him, ‘you’d have been off my team from minute one.’ He took

the first of the proffered beers and tried a mouthful, smacking

his lips.

‘How have you been, John?’ Bell and Rebus clinked

glasses.

‘Mustn’t grumble, Alec. You still in Glasgow?’

‘Attached to Gartcosh these days.’

‘Congratulations. Bit of a step up from busting druggies and

wife-beaters.’

‘Aye.’

‘So someone’s running around your city with a firearm?’

Compston interrupted. ‘Doesn’t seem to have made the

news.’

‘Cafferty’s saying it was an accident. Tripped and smashed a

window. Neighbours say otherwise, and there’s a bullet hole in

his living room wall.’

‘The two of you are cosy, then?’

‘Insofar as I’ve spent half my life trying to put him away.’

‘Any success?’

‘He was released from jail on medical grounds, followed by

a miracle cure.’ Rebus placed his glass on the bar. ‘So, are you

ready to tell me a story, or do we just keep going around the

houses like a taxi driver on his first trip to Livingston?’

Compston looked to Alec Bell.

‘John’s one of the good guys, despite all appearances,’ Bell

confirmed.

‘The Starks,’ Compston began, after a further moment’s

consideration, ‘are looking for a man called Hamish Wright.

He’s a haulage contractor, used to deliver drugs around the

country in his containers. We’ve been watching the Starks for a

while, and when they left Glasgow for Inverness and visited

Wright’s yard there, we knew something was up. Aberdeen and

Dundee after that, and now here.’

‘Have you tried looking for Wright yourselves?’

‘He’s definitely done a flit. Wife is covering his arse, says

he’s in London on business, but he’s not made any calls on his

phone and there’s nothing to show he’s there.’

‘What about his car?’

‘Parked in the garage at his home.’

‘Does the wife seem spooked?’

‘I’d say so.’

‘He’s got something belonging to the Starks?’ Rebus

speculated.

‘Drugs and cash, probably,’ Bell offered.

Compston’s phone was buzzing – incoming call. ‘It’s Beth,’

he said, pressing the phone to one ear while covering the other

with his free hand. But the noise in the bar proved too much, so

he began making for the door. Once he was outside, Rebus

focused on Bell.

‘What’s he like then, Alec?’

‘He’s all right.’

‘Better than you?’ Rebus didn’t sound convinced.

‘Just different. It
is
drugs and cash, by the way. Plenty of

both. All this stuff about muscling in on your man Christie

is wrong. Or them going after Big Ger Cafferty, for that

matter.’

‘You got wire taps or something?’ Rebus mused.

‘Better than that.’ Bell turned his attention towards Fox,

checking that the door was still closed and stabbing a finger at

him. ‘This goes no further.’

Fox held up his hands in a show of appeasement.

‘We’ve got a man on the inside. Deep cover.’

‘Bob Selway?’ Fox guessed, but Bell shook his head.

‘No names. He’s been undercover for more than three years,

worming his way closer and closer to the Starks.’

‘Takes a bit of stamina,’ Rebus said, impressed.

‘Explains why my boss thought we were welcoming a team

of six,’ Fox added.

‘Aye, someone at Gartcosh bolloxed that up – and got Ricky

Compston raging at them for their efforts.’

‘Three years – is that how long the team’s been together?’

Bell shook his head again. ‘There’ve been others before

us. The Starks are behind half the crime in Glasgow and

beyond – so far no operation’s been able to nail down their

coffin.’

‘Sounds like your mole’s not exactly earning his keep,’ Fox

commented. Bell scowled at him.

‘So what’s the story with this haulage contractor?’ Rebus

hoisted his pint to his mouth.

‘Wasn’t happy moving stuff for the Starks. Wanted to be

more of a freelance operator, you might say. He was talking to

people in Aberdeen and elsewhere.’

‘Including here?’ Rebus watched as Alec Bell nodded

slowly. ‘Meaning Darryl Christie?’

‘Very possibly.’

‘So the Starks
will
want a face-to-face with Darryl.’

‘They might, but they’d rather find Hamish Wright first, if

he’s sitting on half a million in coke and eccies and the same in

lovely hard cash.’

‘Your man’s told you this?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ve got enough to take to trial?’

‘Just about.’

86

‘But you want more.’

Bell gave a wide smile. ‘Always.’

‘The longer your man is embedded, though, the more risk

there is of him being rumbled.’

‘He’s aware of that.’

‘Deserves a medal, whatever happens.’

Bell was nodding as Compston pushed open the door and

strode towards the group, rubbing his hands to warm them.

‘The Starks have been meeting a man called Andrew

Goodman.’

‘He runs a stable of nightclub bouncers,’ Rebus said.

‘That’s right. Which means he has a say in what gets into

pubs and clubs.’

‘His boys do,’ Rebus corrected.

‘Including illegal substances,’ Fox added, ‘and those

carrying them with intent to sell.’

‘Very good,’ Compston said.

‘He knows Hamish Wright?’ Rebus asked.

Compston shrugged. ‘This is a long game we’re playing. But

eventually all the bits of the jigsaw will fit together.’

Rebus wrinkled his nose. ‘Sometimes a bit gets lost between

the floorboards, though. Or it wasn’t in the box from the get-

go.’

‘Cheery bastard, aren’t you? Whose round is it?’

‘I need to be going,’ Fox apologised.

‘Back across the road to report to your boss? Decided yet

how much you’re going to spill?’ When Fox didn’t answer,

Compston made a shooing motion, dismissing him, but Fox

lingered.

‘I know why it’s called Operation Junior,’ he stated.

Compston lifted an eyebrow. ‘Go on then.’

‘The
Iron Man
films – Robert Downey Junior plays a

character called Stark.’

Compston was miming a round of applause as Fox made

his exit.

‘Same again, John?’ Bell was asking. Rebus nodded,

watching the retreating figure. Then he turned towards

Compston.

‘Malcolm’s all right, but the one thing he’s not is dirty. So if

you start crossing the line, that may be when he sounds the

alarm. Up until then, he’ll be fine.’

‘I’m not happy he brought you in.’

‘He told me the bare minimum. Until I walked into St

Leonard’s, I didn’t know what I was going to find.’

‘But you’d sussed there was something he was holding

back.’

‘Only because I’m good at this. So where are the Starks

now?’

‘Dennis and his boys are eating a curry somewhere on Leith

Walk, and the dad’s on his way back to Glasgow – got a bit of

business there, apparently.’

‘With one or two of your team on his tail?’

‘Jake and Bob,’ Compston confirmed, more for Bell’s

benefit than Rebus’s. ‘Means you and me might have to spell

for Beth and Peter a bit later.’

‘Fine by me,’ Bell said.

Compston turned his attention back to Rebus, making show

of looking him up and down.

‘So what do we do with you, Mr Rebus?’

‘Apart from getting the next round in, you mean?’

‘Apart from that, yes.’

‘Well, I suppose I could tell you a bit about Cafferty and

Christie. Just to pass the time.’ Rebus gestured towards one of

the tables where two students were finishing a board game and

rising to leave. ‘Or I could tan your arse at draughts – I’ll leave

it to you to choose.’

Doug Maxtone was walking down the corridor, shrugging his

shoulders into his overcoat, when Fox reached the top of the

stairs.

‘Thought I was being stood up,’ Maxtone said. ‘Went to the

office, but it’s in darkness.’

‘Sorry, sir. Some of them are on surveillance and the others

went for a drink.’

Maxtone stopped walking, adjusting his scarf. ‘Well then?’

he said.

‘How much did they share at the briefing – just so I’m not

telling you what you already know?’

‘Compston and his team are in town to keep tabs on a gang

run by Joe and Dennis Stark.’

‘And the Starks are here . . .?’

‘Because someone’s done a bunk and they want to find

him.’ Maxtone paused. ‘I thought
you
were the one making the

report?’

‘To be honest, there’s not a lot I can add. Compston’s team

are keeping watch, but so far the man being sought hasn’t

turned up.’

‘And Edinburgh’s just one stop, yes?’

‘That’s right, sir. They’ve already looked for him in other

cities.’

89

‘So if they don’t find him soon, they’ll move on

elsewhere?’

‘I’d presume so.’

‘Fine then.’ Maxtone made to move off, but paused.

‘Compston’s behaving himself? No regulations being broken,

no toes trampled?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘But
would
you be aware of it?’

‘I think so.’

‘Fine then,’ Maxtone repeated. ‘See you tomorrow,

Malcolm.’

‘Absolutely.’

Fox watched as his boss began to descend the stairs. No

reason the man had to know anything – about Cafferty and

Christie or the missing drugs or the cop who had infiltrated the

Stark gang. No reason for any of that to trouble Doug

Maxtone’s evening.

He walked to the door of the Operation Junior office and

turned the handle. Sure enough, it wasn’t locked. He switched

on the lights and went in. There were two laptops, both in sleep

mode. He dabbed a finger against both trackpads, waking them

and confirming that they were password-protected. A few

sheets of paper lay on one desk, including the photo of Hamish

Wright. Beneath it was a copy of a phone bill – Wright’s most

recent mobile bill, to be precise. Someone had checked the

numbers, the details scribbled in the margin. Fox took his own

phone out and snapped a picture, then put everything back in

order, padding back to the door and switching off the light once

more.

It was his night to phone his sister, and he would take care of

that as soon as he got home. After which he planned to fire up

his computer and see what he could glean about the Starks and

their cohorts.

And if that didn’t take as long as he feared it well might,

he’d call Siobhan just prior to bedtime to ask how her day had

gone and maybe tell her a little of his.

DAY THREE

Nine

Having stopped at a newsagent’s to buy a paper, Fox got back

in his car and phoned Siobhan Clarke. She answered on the

sixth ring.

‘I was wondering why I couldn’t reach you last night,’ Fox